Repairs
by knitzkampf
Summary: There are numbers: untold millions dead, seven stages of grief, and one Princess of Alderaan. A very AU story, beginning at the end of A New Hope, chronicling Leia Organa's journey from sympathizer/activist to Rebel Leader. The OT cast of characters, with of course Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Chewbacca, Obi Wan and Vader.
1. Chapter 1

Notes of Dr. Renzlatl

Comprehensive Behavioral Assessment

Patient 20326

Species:Human

Gender: Female

Patient was detained by Imperial authority and underwent interrogation and torture before escaping. Newly enlisted, not ranked.

Arrived without appointment. Not in uniform. Dress stained but not wrinkled. She smells clean. Hair well-tended, styled in two severe buns that cover her ears.

Age: 19. Background of privilege, wealth and education. No doubt exceptional. Resume includes advanced degrees in philosophy and political science with concentrations in history and galactic geography.

In manner she displays few outward signs of recent trauma. No visible scars. No wringing of hands or making fists. Hands remain gently clasped. Eye contact excellent. She is polite, and interested in the environment she comes into contact with.

Personal note: This will either be simple or difficult.

* * *

Hi, and welcome to my new story! These are the introductory chapters- don't worry, we'll start off with Leia next week. I'd really like your input, because I attempted to create a narrative scope for Leia. Some chapters will be observational, from Dr. Renzatl; others will be internal monologues from Leia, and these will be paired with the same scene, only with her as a participant. So some weeks there'll be a couple of chapters to read. I'm excited about it, and I hope you are too! Thanks for reading, and any comments are deeply appreciated.


	2. Observations, II

Observations, I

_Before you die, kiss the sky. After the battle, see Renzatl!_

The refrain followed her when the men saw her. At playful times. When they marched down the corridor past her office after mess.

There was time to play in war. That was one of the first things Dr. Renzatl had learned in her thirty years as a psychotherapist.

She was still in university, at Coruscant, when the Empire bombed Corellia. Her adopted city and planet, her government as well, had attacked her homeworld.

It had taken weeks to get home. To find her neighborhood in rubble, to see the list of all the missing, to visit the children in the orphanage.

While they waited to talk to her- really while she needed the time to get to each one; they weren't waiting- they played with dolls and played skipping games. Then they would tell her, quite calmly, how they were at breakfast when the sky started whistling, and they would list everyone they no longer saw, and tell her, "my brother is under my house."

It was usually not just a brother, but also a parent, or both, cousin, grandparent, friend, teacher... the list went on and on. They had nightmares, or they threw stones, and they were sad, but if you gave them a toy, they played.

The experience taught her a number of things: one, that beings, especially children, are resilient, like elastic, but you have to get to them in time; two, that a heart can break but a body can live anywhere; three, that a leader she wanted to believe in had failed her utterly; and four, that she would devote her life to healing cities, neighborhoods and children who continued to bear scars long after the rubble was cleaned.

Yes, after the battle, see Renzatl. The men on Yavin 4 knew why she was here. Death followed a battle.

Dr. Renzatl had arrived on Yavin 4 two weeks ago. She was dispatched by Mon Mothma, but not transferred, so she wouldn't be staying.

Every day more and more ships arrived. The sky, so blue and calm, screamed with the roar of X- and Y-Wings, drilling day and night. It was obvious they were gearing up for a big battle. No one said as much, but they didn't have to.

The men knew, just as she knew, that some, maybe many, would "kiss the sky." The euphemism was appropriate for pilots, but no one knew who it would be. Superstitions and rituals arose. Don't shave, don't remove your socks. Don't befriend anyone from TRAD Division; don't even look her in the eye.

There is nothing wrong with dying, but for some reason there is everything wrong with surviving and being haunted by death. No- not even that is correct. It is having to admit it. _After the battle, see Renzatl. _But dying is preferable. Because if one follows death, if one walks in its wake, it eclipses all else. And for some reason, what should be a part of life- inescapable, inevitable- becomes something to be ashamed of.

Yavin 4 is a mysterious place. Dr. Renzatl knew she wouldn't be busy until afterward, so she took the time to explore. This current group of humans, the Rebel Alliance, was not the first to inhabit the moon. Somehow it is found and then lost, then found again. The base encompassed large stone buildings, shaped like squat pyramids. These were the few relics left of the Massassi. Historians and archaeologists still guess at the purpose of the civilization here, why it arose and why it just as suddenly seemed to vanish. Was it a village? A ceremonial place of worship?

The stone for the buildings was quarried from a vein on the other side of the moon. How it was brought was still unknown. The pyramids, commonly referred to as temples, are both large and small. Dr. Renzatl wandered through them all.

Some contained rooms like theaters. Some rooms had very low ceilings one had to hunch over in order to enter, while others soared majestically upward, lit by holes in the stone which form windows. Most were paved stone floors but there was one large space in a smaller pyramid that had a dirt floor with an opening at the peak of the roof. Dr. Renzatl had read about it. Some theorized this was a storage chamber. Others believed it was a ceremonial room, perhaps where sacrifices took place. Still more prescribed to the idea it was the functional kitchen for the village.

The fourth moon breathed with life, unlike the gas planet it orbited. The air was hot and humid, the trees grew without interruption and were tall and thin and covered with vines. It was usually quite noisy, as she had seen a great number of birds and mammals in the trees, but their calls were drowned out by the starfighters. The earth was curious: parts of the soil, if one dared call it that, were viscous.

The base suffered a scare when a group of the pilots were playing ball in a clearing, and two unexpectedly stepped into the wet mud and could not free themselves. Some effort had gone into carving out trails for personal safety. A crude sign marked the spot, 'Welcome to Sandsucker Pond. Leave your ID here so we know who you were.'

Humor joins the battle as well.

The men stayed away from Dr. Renzatl and she from them until after Alderaan was destroyed. On that terrible day, General Dodonna suspended all training exercises, and had the men gather in the briefing theater. He delivered the news first privately to those who called Alderaan their homeworld, and then introduced the doctor to the body at large. They spent the entire day in the theater. It was an order; General Dodonna let no one leave.

Dr. Renzatl addressed the group. Pray, she told them. Cry. Rail. Know we will fight. Whatever you do, be together. Help each other.

For many hours, she sat alone on a stone slab bench and made good use of the time by filling out mandatory CBA forms for the Alderaani pilots. The theater was basically quiet. Someone was singing, a song of lament in a language she did not understand, but its meaning was clear. The doctor looked around, and grown men were wiping their noses on their sleeves, their bodies were hunched, but as they sat together their shoulders touched.

General Dodonna had it right, Dr. Renzatl considered, thinking of her early lessons on Corellia years ago. Something so huge as Alderaan; the cruel nature of what happened, changed everything. She thought she was there to work, but as the emotion in the room washed over her, she realized she had to be part of the human experience as well, or how could she be of help later?

Love is part of war.


	3. Shock, I

_A moment in time...  
_

Shock, I

The crash was unexpected. She'd been warned- Captain Solo had tried- she should have known, but to watch herself empty, like the room...

Luke was swept away, and he would be a pilot and a hero, maybe even a Jedi, and she only stood on a makeshift stage, in a borrowed dress and borrowed hose, bedecked with jewelry that appeared out of nowhere. Thank the goddesses leadership stopped talking to her, because she couldn't make her eyes smile anymore, she couldn't move her lips, and all they kept saying to her was her father, her father, her father.

She wasn't borrowed. Her father would never loan her out like that. It seemed so long ago, but just days ago, she had- it was she who had done it, and the journey was a complete surprise, even as she lived it- she had suggested herself.

She borrowed her own presence, for them. Borrowed it from something, and... she couldn't give it back.

Her smile drained, her hand almost lifted, to call after Luke, beseech him, _may I come with you? _Because... The joyful crowd that hoisted him on their shoulders told her he had someone, and he always would. Because she knew where he was going.

Luke had the future, and she would just go on, like the captain probably, only he didn't seem to mind going nowhere. She had no past now to fall back on. No Alderaan, where she had been a princess and a daughter and a senator. No Death Star, where she had been a prisoner and a threat.

They hadn't debriefed her. Hadn't even offered a medical scan, after she had told the captain she would wait, theirs was probably so much better, newer, accurate. Declined his, because she was… She winced a little, because she had all but said he was not enough… she was... More than needing the pity or concern of some hotshot pilot. More than a rescued Princess with a reward fund. She had the plans. She was on a mission. She was important.

If you wanted the past, she could give it to you. Describe, in heartbreaking clarity, the moment she offered herself up, how her father's posture changed, the angle of the sunlight on the brocade tablecloth, her voice confident and oblivious, "I can take the plans," the little butterfly who wanted in, its little wings beating against the windowpane.

"Leia." How the cuff of her father's sleeve rode up, exposing the Organa fleur di lis links of his dress shirt as he placed his elbows on the table, carefully interlocking his fingers.

His worry, the _danger _of what she proposed, danger that came true, danger that she extended to her homeworld, to everything she was, and to the Death Star.

Princess Leia and the butterfly, allured by the promise of something. She waited on the Death Star, for death or her father, who would come because he hadn't wanted her to go.

But he hadn't come. Was he still sitting at the table with the lovely brocade cloth? Instead it was Luke who came, but no one sent him. He took her with him, and together they allowed the Death Star to come between the sun and moon, an eclipse. "Princess Leia brought the plans," she heard pilots call back and forth excitedly as they readied for battle, or "Princess Leia brought the Death Star.

She didn't want accolades; that's not what she meant, standing right now alone on a stage; not credit, but some kind of acknowledgment. Didn't they see she didn't only provide the plans? She had lived them, bled them, died?

The little butterfly… Leia needed big breaths; her eyes were full and fat. It was small, a nondescript color really; kind of cream, and it had a little black dot on the upper underwings, and inside the little black dot a smaller orange one. Four wings, the upper ones larger, hinged on a slender, fuzzy body, flapping uselessly at a window pane. A mistake: the butterfly had made a mistake. There was no nectar at the window or beyond, only behind. _Go back, butterfly_. Leia would have cupped it between her palms, if she had only known…

If she had known… The borrowed dress held her up; otherwise she would collapse gently down to the ground. She was empty, leaked out all over the stage, alone.

The truth was the hardest to accept.

If she stepped outside, her eyes wouldn't greet the starlit sky, searching for Alderaan. She would be looking for the Death Star.

There was no going back.


	4. Observations, III

_The same moment in time..._

Dr. Renzatl sat on the lip of Sandsucker Pond, her back leaning against the crude signpost warning against stepping too close. It was dark; night had fallen. During the day she had learned to tell the difference between safe soil and dangerous muck, but it all looked the same right now.

Through the trees she could glimpse light. Usually the only lighting at night had only been for the landing strips, as the base was careful not to attract undue attention, but tonight General Dodonna had given permission for the generators to run. "Use 'em up!" he had barked out to the throng, and now they powered out light and music.

The battle was over.

She knew where she was, why she was here. She was not a violent person, but she served in the Rebel Alliance. She was a therapist, not a soldier or pilot. She would never find herself on the front lines. And yet, General Dodonna had told her to be prepared to die...

She had come out to the pond to do a bit of reflecting, to wait for the feeling of the surreal to pass. She was still in uniform; she remembered wondering if she should change, but had decided against it. Her hair was down though. Or half down, half up. It was a mess. She must have torn at her hair.

Pilots were the ones to go to battle. Training was constant. And they had gone, but they took her with her...

Earlier, a ship had sought to land, and General Dodonna allowed it, but an alert went up. Dr. Renzatl had left her office, and went to see if she needed to get to an evacuation transport. Sentries had their weapons up, directed at a cart approaching the temple entrance, and Dr. Renzatl followed their aim, squinting out of the shadow of the temple into the sunlight.

She noticed the Wookiee right away. They were not a common sight. Next was the taller of the two men. Instinctively she recognized he hailed from Corellia; homeworlders could tell one another. The other man was a youth, who was looking about with his mouth agape. A young woman dashed off a cart before it came to a stop and embraced General Dodonna. This was a surprise. General Dodonna was not exactly the kind of man that inspired warm feelings, but he was hugging the young woman back, and Dr. Renzatl recognized her. She was Princess Leia, the daughter of Viceroy Organa.

The Princess of Alderaan, Dr. Renzatl amended to herself, and said a silent prayer, and offered a hope, that many more would come.

The Princess and the General had a hasty discussion, and then he signaled to the sentries and Princess Leia beckoned to the men and Wookiee, and also to a pair of droids Dr. Renzatl had overlooked.

"What's happened?" she asked a sentry. "Are we evacuating?"

"We're staying on high alert," the man replied, "but no evacuation."

Dr. Renzatl swallowed and nodded nervously. She couldn't be of help and only in the way, so she returned to her office, and twenty minutes later General Dodonna appeared. His face was white.

"The moment has come," he told her grimly. "I just sent forty-eight fighters out."

"May the Force be with us," Dr Renzatl breathed.

"That ship that landed... it was followed." General Dodonna said, and stopped. He seemed to have difficulty informing her of developments.

"Followed?" Dr. Renzatl repeated helpfully.

"Yes. By the Empire. A battle station, one they call the Death Star. That ship was late. It wasn't supposed to be that ship-" General Dodonna waved his hand rapidly, erasing what he said. "Never mind. The purpose of Yavin was to gather the fleet to go against the Death Star, because we would have in our hands the technical readouts telling us how to destroy it."

"I see," Dr. Renzatl said. It was the first time anyone had explained the reason for Yavin to her.

"The Empire caught on to the theft. The prisoner managed to escape and deliver the plans, only it might be too late. We've lost the element of surprise. There was a tracking device on the ship and the Empire has learned the location of the Rebel fleet."

"I see," Dr. Renzatl said again. His story seemed very incomplete, and rather choppy, but now was not the time to ask questions.

"The Death Star is the weapon that destroyed Alderaan," General Dodonna said conclusively.

"Oh," the doctor's eyes widened.

"Yavin will be in its sights. We estimate thirty minutes."

"Oh my gods," Dr. Renzatl blurted.

"Yes. Our attack plan is sound, but the Death Star is heavily armed."

Dr. Renzatl had no idea why General Dodonna was wasting time talking to her. They should be moving, running. Fleeing.

"I'll offer you the chance to leave. You will risk capture or fire by the Empire. That's something you ought to know."

He wasn't leaving, she realized. The general would go down with the moon, as he thought proper.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do- a terrible, icy fear was all through her. To tell the General, goodbye, thank you, good death, seemed so... cold, like he was already dead and she wasn't, but it was all she could think of. She could dash past him, out into the temple hallways, to the hangar, and find the ship that would bring her to safety. Or at least the chance of survival.

She wanted to ask who else was leaving.

"Let's hope for the best," General Dodonna said lamely. "I'll be in the command center, following the battle and the Empire's approach. You can... wait there, with us, if you'd rather not be alone."

It was evident General Dodonna thought the battle was a lost cause. So was the idea of leaving. He was being considerate, acknowledging her status as support staff, but his option to leave was a polite bluff. Dr. Renzatl barely found her voice. "Thank you, General," she said, and had no idea what she was thanking him for.

She paced for a while, feeling frantic, and then a feeling of majesty came over, a dignity, and she sat at her desk, her legs crossed composedly, because for some reason appearances mattered, and she wanted to appear calm. It felt like something was watching her. Maybe a higher being. She pulled a data board to her.

_My name is Major Dr. Albrina Renzatl,_ she wrote._ I am fifty-four years old, and I am about to die._

_I will be a victim of the Death Star. The same weapon that has destroyed Alderaan. An entire planet, completely gone. Nothing is left of it. Not her people, her architecture, not her seas or her soil. And now the same will happen to the fourth moon of Yavin._

_My friends call me Brin and my husband is dead. I wish I had died like him. I wish, if we both had to die, that we could have done so together. We had no children. My parents are dead. My sister, too. His father still lives. I have not spoken to him in two years, I realize. I always meant to._

_I will be honest: I am terrified. I don't want to become nothing. I wish I understood __the threat the Empire poses to all of us,__ for I feel if I had, if we all had, we would not have come to this point._

_I- am not brave. Not like Bail Organa, who did see the threat and quietly tried to stop it. Too quietly, I fear. I am not brave like General Dodonna, who sees death as a kind of duty._

_To me it is a tragedy._

_No one will see this,_ Dr. Renzatl wrote._ No one. It will be obliterated, same as my body. How so very sad, that my life is reduced to nothing._

Dr. Renzatl stopped writing. If it was pointless, then why do it? How should one spend their last moments, if they are fortunate enough to know?

The base had grieved Alderaan together. The pilots were up there now, protecting them, and dying.

Dr. Renzatl went to the command center. Her life could lack meaning to anyone but herself. She would die with the others, for that felt right.

General Dodonna was there, with the Princess, gathered around an interactive screen that displayed the pilot locations and transmitted their radio chatter.

"Death Star approaching firing range in five minutes," someone informed General Dodonna.

Prisoner, Dr. Renzatl recalled what the General had told her. Dodonna must have meant the Princess. The men and Wookiee that brought her were not present, so they must have joined the battle.

"Three minutes."

The Princess and General Dodonna drew closer together. Dr. Renzatl hoped idly that Dodonna would see her, beckon her to their little circle, where they could huddle together.

"Two minutes."

Dr. Renzatl slunk to the floor, her knees drawn to her chest. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to see it, not the battle station nor its death laser. She didn't want to hear it or feel it. She hugged her knees tighter and put her forehead on her knees.

It would get hot, or she would burn, or the earth would explode around her. She was scared of pain.

"One minute."

She squeezed her eyes shut and called to her husband.

"Pull up!" a pilot on the radio screamed, and then screamed again.

_Kiss the sky before you die. After the battle see Renzatl. _And of her?

All the things she hadn't done, had missed. The bowl of candy in her drawer that she rationed so carefully, one piece a day; she'd eat it all. The sun rose without her witnessing it. All the things she still wanted to do. _Please,_ she begged the higher being.

"Luke, you turned off your targeting computer," she heard.

"Thirty seconds."

"- Blow this thing so we can all go home!" The voice was excited.

"Twenty-"

"Woo-hoo!"

Princess Leia made a choking noise.

Dr. Renzatl lifted her head, curious despite herself. Was the Princess the first to-?

General Dodonna collapsed onto the screen, his head rolling over his elbows. Princess Leia dashed out of the command center.

"They've done it!" a golden droid shouted.

Hastily, Dr. Renzatl scrambled to her feet. Everyone was leaving the command center. Some were crying, others were grinning and shouting incoherent syllables. She was panting. Even the droid had left the command center and she was the only one.

The hangar was not her place. She went back to her office, re-read her scribbled biography, if she would call it that, and brought it to Sandsucker Pond.

She was a therapist, and she knew the value of talking to someone. She felt lonely, here. She almost threw her data board into the suck sand. It was panicked gibberish. But on second thought she kept it on her lap.

What else was down there, never to be recovered? A baby bird, fallen out of the nest? The costly misstep of a Massassi? A historian had theorized on the possibility of sacrifice in the earthen-floored temple. No, Dr. Renzatl was certain. The Massassi would know of the suck sand, same as the base had quickly learned, and if they did anything like make sacrifices, it would be in a place like Sandsucker Pond.

The suck sand had a name, and a warning, and a history no one could know.

The thump of music was rhythmic, like a pulse. The doctor's thoughts drifted to the Princess, dressed up and smiling after the battle. Experience told her it was perhaps a facade. The Princess was so many things: victim, mourner and victor. Dr. Renzatl admired her and ached for her. Once the adrenaline of the battle wore off the victory would feel hollow.

She thought about bringing her out here, to Sandsucker Pond, so the Princess could get her bearings. She would see Alderaan below the surface, and she would see the Death Star, and she would understand how both had to exist.

It was an idle thought. Most likely Dr. Renzatl would see the Princess, and it should be in the appropriate setting. The Princess needed a friend right now, and Dr. Renzatl could not be her friend.

Dr. Renzatl stared into the muck before her. Some flies were hovering above the surface. She could hear them buzzing.

Life would go on. It always did. Even without Alderaan, it went on. It seemed cruel, but that's how it was.


	5. Shock, II

Shock, II

There was a great roar of cheer, of happiness; the noise rolled over Leia but didn't penetrate. Luke was engulfed by the crowd. Captain Solo had already moved to the side, his eyes wary and perhaps alarmed, a satisfying sight, but the crowd was generous and soon he too was gone, swept away. General Dodonna gave her a curt nod before moving off to confer with the rest of leadership, and Leia was left alone on the stage as the room emptied.

The noise paraded through the converted temple, now an empty hangar, and snaked itself outside into the jungle clearing, the added thump of music telling her the celebration had evolved. No one came to get her. She didn't know how to join them. She didn't know if she should, if she wanted to. If they wanted her there. Perhaps she didn't know how to celebrate. A Princess at a party was an arrangement, like the music, or the menu.

Though- Leia frowned- she would call running to Luke after he landed, pounding her sweaty hands on his sweat-soaked flight suit, celebrating. The size of their smiles, how everyone else in the hangar dropped from her awareness, how tightly they embraced Han once he joined them. How warm and not-sweaty his body was, how, for once, he was neither concealing nor transparent, but genuine.

She thought now she must have been celebrating Luke's survival, and Han's return. That's what the medals were for, the ones she hung around their necks, in her mind. Not really in bravery, though that was what it was called. Captain Solo had said something...

Alone on the stage Leia tapped her thigh, trying to re-create the scene where he'd... It wasn't a real stage, just planks of wood elevated across two large bins, and they had created steps for her out of crates. The borrowed shoes were too big, the borrowed hose too slippery, and the toes had slid into the point of the shoes and grown numb. She shifted her weight, and the sound under her foot was hollow and echoed about the large but empty room. Leia frowned stubbornly. Whatever he said had some semblance of truth, wry and almost inappropriate, but she had approved of it because... well... that's what she was. That's what they were.

She saw them, in her memory, Luke and Han talking; Luke was simultaneously proud and modest but also tragic; Han suddenly uncomfortable. General Dodonna had asked her to deliver the news to them, how the Rebel Alliance would celebrate their first real victory over the Empire. She remembered a rising bitterness, that General Dodonna should give her an errand. Where she came from she was a princess, but she wasn't a princess here. They didn't know what to do with her. She was some sort of unnamed presence, though they called her 'Your Highness'. They couldn't send her back to where she came from. Not to Alderaan, and not to the Death Star.

She had told Luke and Han, "Mon Mothma will announce the victory to the galaxy, and declare open war. We're no longer a group of rebels, but officially the Alliance to Restore the Republic. You both are to be awarded the Medal of Bravery."

"What about you?" Luke had asked.

He had a way of warming her. Leia smiled wistfully. "I have the honor of presentation."

"Oh. Bravery, huh?" Luke said.

"More like survivor's luck," Han had drawled, and all of them, Chewbacca, Luke, even Leia, had nodded.

She couldn't celebrate the victory over the thing that took Alderaan away. The Death Star was the reason for her... her... and she pressed her lips together, the rest of the thought cut off. She wasn't anything without Alderaan, except for what the Death Star made her, and if that was gone, where did that leave her?

The gown was all wrong too, and Leia came to a decision. She would change. She left the stage, hoping she would be able to find the room they had let her use to freshen up. The rebel base had taken over artifacts of a civilization long since died out on a forest moon of Yavin. Huge stone buildings, their original purpose only guessed at, the jungle growth taking root in crumbling mortar, empty chambers ideal for hiding a fleet, an army.

A strange place for a white gown, Leia thought. Why was it here? She couldn't settle it, couldn't figure it out. She could barely remember landing with the _Falcon_, or the battle, and then she'd been whisked away to change, and she was trying to figure out why being so happy made her feel so sad.

"This ought to be suitable, don't you think?" someone had said, and Leia hadn't looked or really listened; just assumed it was a woman, but during the medal ceremony she didn't remember seeing any women... A droid had helped her tailor the gown so it fit; if anyone looked at the back they would see the tucks and pins.

Leia found herself outside, looking up through the trees at the sky, thinking about the Death Star and all that had happened to her, and now it was gone. Her imprisonment, the torture- gone.

She forgot there was a party. She stood frozen, her heart beating faster than the rhythm of the music, absolutely unable to join the revelry. She made herself move, mindful of the path markers. One of the techs had told her a sludgy kind of sand existed in intermittent pockets around the hard earth, disguised by fallen leaves, and not to stray off the path or risk being sucked down and swallowed.

Why was this harder than facing Darth Vader?

It made Alderaan real, she answered herself. Her gaze stayed upward, past the trees, into the night sky, where somewhere above pieces of metal that once were the Death Star gathered in gravity, as the remnants of Alderaan did elsewhere.

The quarters they arranged for her to use were a dead pilot's. His personal effects were still in the small room, scattered on the small cot. Evidently when the call for battle came he had dashed back to his quarters and emptied his pockets. Leia drifted around the room, eyes taking in the lack of detail. A bed, a desk with chair, a plain set of corrugated wood drawers. When she touched the data board on the little desk the screen came to light with a letter he'd started.

_Dear Mati,  
Looks like I'm going to see some action finally. After all this time. This one's the big one, the rumor is. By the time you get this, you'll have heard that Alderaan was destroyed by it. And with any luck, maybe you'll have heard the war is over._

_I don't have time to write more. But I wanted to send something, in case- well, you know. I'm still your boy, always will be. Love ya, Mati, but I gotta go._

Leia had stood in the room, unwilling to empty the cot, her thoughts on the mother somewhere far away. The bed was made, the blanket tightly tucked in over the sheet. She looked around at the hard stone floor. Where was she going to sleep? Who expected her to sleep?

Leia had a feeling they regarded her mission as failed because she'd been caught. It didn't matter that she escaped. It hadn't been _their_ escape. She knew what was on her file. 'Captured'. She knew they notified her father on Alderaan. 'Presumed dead'. And of course it no longer mattered if the plans were stolen; the goal was to destroy the Death Star before it was used, and she had failed to prevent that.

She'd managed to bring the plans to the Rebellion after all, but she also managed, through no fault of her own, to bring the Empire. A tracking device had been placed on Solo's ship, the _Millennium Falcon_, and the jungle world of Yavin, with its ancient stone artifacts, was exactly seconds away from being the second world the Death Star destroyed before Luke's shot saved them all.

Dear Mati, she composed in her head, I'm sorry I found your son's letter. I didn't mean to intrude.

Time was vague in the room. Purpose, ideas, too. Leia had taken off the gown. She folded it neatly and set it on the back of the chair. She didn't know where it had come from or where to return it. She caressed it, for it was just as strange as she, wasn't it? Stripped down to her underclothing, she didn't know how to be, and just stood there.

A strange thought, half a mind to appear to them, out there, like this, stripped. Dodonna would be horrified, and the men- boys- wouldn't jeer, and they should, for they were young and healthy, and Captain Solo would tell her to cover up, and Luke would give her the yellow jacket he took from Han, and they would be the only ones who knew she was really screaming _look at me!_

Leia looked down at herself. Pale skin, slender; a body barely grown into womanhood. It was curious, how she barely recognized it. She followed the imaginary scene through, saw herself mostly undressed and flitting through the ranks like a moth, unnoticed except for the dark eyes of the Captain's, and shook her head rapidly to dispel the vision. Then she removed the earrings from her lobes, and the necklace. Her own gown, more practical and stained, was draped over the chair. She slipped it over her head and decided the elegant braid coursing down her back was a lie. She redid her hair in the side buns, because it was how she arrived and it was a statement. On the Death Star, while she waited for Luke and Han to peel off their stormtrooper uniforms, she had taken the time to tidy the buns after emerging from the garbage masher. The buns, before and after, saved her the energy of having to explain herself.

She was jealous of Mati's son, who had someone to mourn him. And she envied the evidence of his life: how neat he was, but his pockets had been emptied in a hurry. His wallet, ID scanner, some pieces of candy. He left a deck of cards he didn't bring into battle on the bed. Her fingers brushed them. Once the celebration was done and the base back to regular operations, a droid would come and sweep them into a box, erasing the room of the pilot's presence, and the contents would be tagged with his name, and soon Mati would receive a package containing the items and a letter of condolence.

The room was like a state of in-between, that's what it was, she decided. A portal between the living and dying. She couldn't sit, only pace as the walls got smaller and smaller, and tell Mati, I regret to inform you...

The pilot hoped to see the war come to an end.

He must be disappointed, Leia thought. _I tried_, Mati, he would explain in a letter. _What can I say? You win some, you lose some._

Mati, I'll keep fighting, Leia told the mother. So your son gets his wish.

A knock came at the door. "Leia?" she heard. There was only one person here who called her by her name. She moved to the door, feeling suddenly stiff and sore. The bright yellow jacket Luke had borrowed from Han earlier glowed like a moon in the dark hallway.

Luke said, "Can we come in?" He wasn't rude but he lacked manners. He didn't wait for her to invite him but just entered. Leia started to reflect on that. How one's place of origin styled behavior. Tatooine and Alder-

Behind him, the figures of Han Solo and Chewbacca emerged from the back-lit corridor like a phantasm, and she thought, _of all the things I once knew, I only know these three now._

"Where you been?" Luke asked.

Leia started to answer. She waved a hand, indicating the pilot's quarters, "I-"

"Because you've got to be with us," Luke said. "It's awful."

Leia closed her mouth, surprised, and peered at Luke. Behind him, the great Wookiee said something, like an explanation, and Captain Solo nodded in agreement. Luke was wired, tight; but it was adrenaline, Leia saw; not alcohol. "Awful?" she repeated.

"Yes," Luke declared. "No one's-" he broke off suddenly, self-conscious. "How do you celebrate sacrifice, you know?" He scuffed at the ground.

Leia nodded. Yes, she did know.

Han put in, for Luke's benefit, "It's a lousy party. And we don't feel like talking. Do we, kid?"

"No," Luke shook his head. "I don't. I'm tired. I wanna hide."

"Well," Leia said. "I'm sorry it's awful," but she realized she didn't want to be with anyone, and she didn't want to be alone, but she could be with these three. She moved aside so Han and Chewie could enter. "You can hide in here."

Chewbacca yowled something, finishing with his head cocked at an angle and looking at Leia. She cocked her own similarly, her gaze expectantly at Han to translate.

"Checking on you," he said gruffly, and walked to the center of the pilot's quarters, looking around. "They gave you this?" he said, and he snorted.

He had some idea of her, and Leia was curious. Just what should they offer her, she wanted to know from him. Whatever he thought, she would disagree. Not a special room reserved for the rare visit by a dignitary, such as Senator Mothma or her father might have used, not a converted office. The dead pilot's room was perfect, even though she couldn't stay in it.

Luke was looking at the bed, at the objects on the neatly tucked cover, and instead of sweeping them into a pile off to the side, he respectfully removed the pillow and sat on the floor instead. Gratified, both at Luke's gesture and Han's irritation, Leia sat beside Luke, the hard metal of the bed's rail pressing into her back.

"You changed, huh?" Luke said unnecessarily.

Chewbacca had barely entered the room. He directed a question at Han.

"That'd be all right," Han said, and resumed his prowling of the room. Chewbacca left.

"What," Luke said.

"He's gonna get us somethin' to eat," Han translated the Wookiee language to Luke. He picked up the deck of cards, turning the box that contained them over, and dropped it back on the bed.

"Oh," Luke said. "That _will_ be all right."

Leia's chin was lowered, and Han's boots- polished for the occasion- blocked her vision of the floor, so she lifted just her eyes sideways to make out what she could of Luke next to her, hungry and tired and a hero, and she smiled slightly.

"John D. Branon," Han said, now at the desk, his finger on the data board.

"What?" Luke said again, and Leia wondered why learning the pilot's name bothered her. John Branon had been a son, a card player; he was excited and idealistic, and his things, his letter, were much more warm, much more real, than his name. _Still your boy._

"Close that up," she ordered Han.

He ignored her. "That's whose room this was. John D. Branon."

"Was he an officer?" Luke wondered aloud. "No roommate."

"Lieutenant," Han said, scrolling through the data board.

"He was killed," Leia said. And now he was just a name.

"Which was he?" Luke asked. "I'm sorry I don't know. I met most, but it was all so quick..."

Han picked up an earring Leia had left on the gown.

"I don't know," Leia answered, watching Han to see if he would pocket the earring. He didn't, and there was nothing else to think about. The dead pilot was slipping from her and a heavy despair fell over her. Mati's son was becoming a statistic, one of so many. "I tried to meet them all before the battle, but as you say..."

"It was quick," Luke finished for her. "I was going to bunk with Biggs tonight."

Han pivoted from the desk to peer at Luke. "Biggs?"

"Yeah, one of the-" Luke waved his hand, letting the gesture remain unfinished, and all three humans nodded. "I knew him from home, actually," Luke continued. "We grew up together."

"Oh, Luke," Leia said.

"Last I saw him on Tatooine, he told me he was planning on defecting from the Empire and joining the Rebellion. I told him he'd never find it."

"Small galaxy, huh," Han said, cutting into the thick silence, and Leia brought her gaze to him, wondering what it was that made him stand out from everyone else here. He'd been reluctant to join the fight but it wasn't for his own self-preservation, as he claimed. It wasn't death he was afraid of. It was pain; the pain of continuing. She understood. She was in terrible pain right now.

"Yeah. It is," Luke nodded with a sad realization. "Really small sometimes. It's funny isn't it. Well, not funny. We were- before the battle, standing around- talking; like there wasn't any danger. Just matter of fact that neither of us would die and the only thing worrying us was where to sleep later. I feel, so naive. Like an idiot."

Leia put her hand on Luke's arm. "Don't."

"But Leia, you can't 'oh, Luke' me, because there must be so many you grew up with that...ech," he trailed off, placing his palm over his eyes. "Shit," he swore, the first time Leia heard him, but she drew her legs up and made no response.

"I'm sorry," Luke said.

Leia nodded curtly.

"That was a real stupid thing to say," Luke kept apologizing. "I know one person can't compare to a whole planet-"

"It does," Leia said, glad her voice came out soft yet firm. "Of course it does. It's the same. And you know what's worse," she offered as a way to get the image of her father out of her head, "is the grandmother that worked in the store around the corner. What if there's no one to talk about her? What if there's no one to say her name?"

They fell silent. Leia had a torrent of names, and her lips were folded over her teeth like a dam, and she knew Luke, who had fewer, was reciting his own. His friend Biggs, and Ben Kenobi, lost on the Death Star; his aunt and uncle, killed at his home; even his father, whom he had never met. All by the Empire, faceless soldiers in white or black masks, and she could almost feel his enmity grow.

"So say a name," Han broke the silence.

Luke was looking at Leia expectantly, to see if she would, and although she had released her lips, she found she couldn't open them. Not any of _those _names. No. For Mati though, and Luke, who had watched the Empire pick off Red Squadron one by one, she could.

"John D. Branon," Leia said, and her body grew softer. _Dear Mati._ She might even ask Dodonna in the morning if she could be the one to compose the letters of condolence, make them more personal. A mother didn't really want to know her son died honorably; while that was important, that kind of information didn't last a lifetime. She was probably more interested in the last time he smiled, that he still liked candy.

The door swished open, and Chewie ducked through the threshold, balancing a flask, a stack of four cups, and a platter of a meat dish Leia didn't recognize. The pieces were small, covered in a sticky-looking sauce that smelled good. She was hungry, she realized. She and Luke stood, and Luke made a beeline for the platter of food but Leia walked up to Han.

"I'll say the names," she resolved, looking distantly at a corner. "Someday. I'll get whatever I can from the holoweb. The census, school rosters, tax forms. Whatever it takes, but I will list them all in one place."

General Dodonna would have patted her patronizingly on the shoulder. He would be listening to the talk of grief, temporary and intense. Captain Solo instead let her see his eyes longer than she would be inclined.

He only nodded, though it felt like a promise. Intense, but not temporary, and it confused Leia, for the Captain had been quite adamant about not staying with the Rebellion. He insisted he was in it for the money, but now he seemed like he would follow up on her, check for that list some day.

Chewie announced something in his native tongue. He looked fierce, but Leia had quickly developed an affection for him. He was a delightful being, strong and gentle, and it was his association with Han that made the Captain likeable, despite efforts to the contrary. Han had explained earlier that the Wookiee understood several languages, but physically was limited to speaking only Shyriiwook.

"He robbed the buffet table," Han informed them.

Luke had his nose in the platter. "Good choice," he determined. "What else is out there? Maybe we should get a plate." He looked around. "Something to eat with? A fork? A napkin, at least."

Chewie rumbled at Luke, swaying his hips, and liquid splashed out of the flask.

It didn't really need interpreting, but Han said, "He says they're dancing."

"Oh," Luke made a sour face. "I'll lick my fingers."

"They dancing with any women?" Han asked Chewie.

The Wookiee made a sly-sounding response. Luke glanced over at Leia, gauging how much she understood, both of the language and the context. She got the feeling they were on equal footing.

"Might not be a bad way to cap off the evening," Han said with a grin, then he shrugged. "Just haven't seen any. Someone brought that gown," he pointed with his chin toward the neatly folded garment on the chair back.

"Who said it has to be a woman?" Luke wondered. "It's a big galaxy. It fit you large, didn't it Leia? Could be a man's."

Chewie chortled. They sat in a circle on the stone floor, the platter in the center, and busied themselves with the food, each licking their fingers and drying them on the fabric or fur covering their thighs.

"Maybe it's an all-male base," Luke said after his third piece of meat, still thinking about the gown.

"I wouldn't bring one like that," Han considered. "_If _ I was to bring one, mind you. It wouldn't be white."

"I like the shimmer silk," Luke put in. "Mine would be greens or blues. I like those colors."

"And you know how the sleeves were sheer?"

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "A man's skin isn't as nice. We're too hairy."

"That's why I think it's a woman's," Han said. "And the Princess is short. It'd come up to my knees."

"Not a good length," Luke agreed. "Either real short or real long."

Leia listened as Han and Luke designed their own gowns in earnest. Luke observed that Han had tight ears and something small on the lobes would pass, while Luke preferred a choker necklace over his throat. It was ludicrous, but so was the idea the Death Star could be destroyed, and Leia listened passively, their voices flowing around her, a true discussion of the inane, and it was soothing.

"I'll find out who the gown belongs to," Leia spoke up finally, and somehow she brought the conversation to an end. She didn't know what she did to cause it, but the men hadn't described their footwear yet and now they wouldn't. They concentrated for a time on eating. To break the silence, Luke brought up the Death Star.

"Did you know Ben was a Jedi?" Luke turned to Leia at one point. "I didn't get to ask you before. You called him 'General Kenobi.'"

She nodded, eyes directed at the meat platter. "My father," Leia took a careful bite and made Luke wait while she chewed it, "had given me his name a while back, when I first undertook some operations for the Rebellion. He told me he was a Jedi in hiding. Was he on Tatooine since the Fall?"

"I don't know," Luke mumbled. "I think so. Seems like he was always there."

"I wonder what it was like for him."

"Tatooine's a good place to hide," Han commented. "The Outer Rim is ignored by the Empire."

"He kept his name," Luke said. "Well, the last name, anyway. And he- I wonder how he did it. When. Like, if it was part of the Force. He had a reputation," Luke trailed off thoughtfully.

"What, like a problem solver?" Leia guessed.

"No." Luke looked at her, blue eyes full of memory. "As a hermit. A loner. An odd sort, you know?"

Han snorted. "You're being kind."

"Oh, stop it," Leia reprimanded. "You can't know what he had to endure. A Jedi in hiding... he must have been heart broken. And he picked you, didn't he, to get the droids off-planet. So if you want to add odd to the equation..." She had a point, but it was hard to put across.

"Chewie picked him." The Wookiee had something to add, and Han translated. "He said he looked like a mild human with an easy job."

"He pulled the wool over your eyes," Luke wasn't ready to laugh yet but he smiled. "I bet he used the Force."

"And it wasn't such an easy job at that, was it?" Leia challenged. "Perhaps you ought to rethink your purpose. What were _you_ doing on Tatooine?"

Han touched a finger to his chest. "I had my own purpose," he said defiantly. "Tatooine is Jabba the Hutt's base of operations, and once upon a time, maybe until four days ago, I was his favorite smuggler."

The Wookiee snorted.

"What happened?" Luke asked.

"Okay," Han hedged, "a little longer than four days. Whenever I dropped that load." He turned to Luke. "I owe him for a lost shipment of spice. And Jabba's charging me street value, even though it hadn't been delivered yet. Which ain't fair."

"So how much?"

"It doesn't matter," Leia put in. "The Empire's bounty on you will be higher."

"Great," Han said ironically. "I'd rather deal with the Empire than Jabba."

"Are you afraid of him?" Luke asked.

Han waved his medal still hanging around his neck. "I'm supposed to be brave, remember?"

"You are brave," Leia said quietly.

"Huh. I'll be honest. It was a lot longer than four days ago, and I've been runnin' from Jabba ever since. I ain' that brave, Princess."

"I think you are."

"You don't know me."

"I don't," Leia agreed, Luke listening intently. "I only know what I know from the Death Star. And you... behaved well. Except for the times when you insulted me, but I'll attribute that to stress-"

"You insulted me first!"

Luke and Chewie chuckled.

"I was under stress," Leia said, trying for humor, but everyone got quiet, for which she was sorry. "But I would say you were brave," she finished.

Han met Luke's eyes. "Not as brave as you," he told her. Luke nodded his head in agreement.

"Well, you can't expect to hold yourself up to my level," she responded in all seriousness. "After all, I'm a princess."

The piece of meat on its way to Han's mouth froze, and he surprised Leia by laughing heartily, and Chewie joined in. "Guess that explains everything, huh," he chuckled.

But the conversation faltered. Leia was thinking how she caused silence, and yet had made someone- laugh, which should be absurd- Han Solo of all people; but it was a reward in itself. Luke apparently was still thinking of Ben Kenobi, for he asked Han about something that had occurred in the cantina, and the two men and the Wookiee continued their own quiet discussion.

"We've got that in common, do you see?" Luke noted to them all. "Either Ben, or Tatooine. Maybe both. You were there, Han, trying to get work, and Ben hired you. Leia was there, or intending to be there, trying to get to Ben, and I was just there, trying to fetch R2 from running away to Ben. He's the thing that ties us all together."

"That's true," Leia realized. "And on the Death Star, the bond was cemented."

Chewie held his glass up and declared something. The other three followed suit, not needing a translation. "To Ben," Luke echoed, and four glasses touched. "To General Kenobi," Leia put in, and Han added, "To the old man."

In the room of in-between, it was Luke who decided that no one should stay. "Can you sneak us on the _Falcon_ Han? You want to Leia?"

She did, because she couldn't face what was in the room alone. She got up, her hip joints stiff, and pulled the gown and jewelry off the chair. She followed them out, and they took the long way around, avoiding the music and sure to stay on the path. Han ran the turbine fans all night so the thumping rhythm wouldn't disturb them, and they slept.


	6. Denial, I

Denial

Leia awoke with a sense of urgency. She felt horrible for sleeping. What a lavish, indulgent thing to do. Millions would never sleep again.

A euphemism for death popped into her head. Eternal sleep. What a crock, she thought, and got out of the bunk. She had slept in her own gown, the one she wore on the Death Star. Her hair needed attention. The rolled buns were loose and sagging over her ears, and she took a moment to freshen them.

Her father was still alive while she slept. "We all do what we have to," he kept telling her while she screamed and screamed that he needed to leave, and she thought about that while she tended to her hair, not looking at anything.

She proceeded through the emFalcon/em to the lounge table, and apparently she'd slept longer than both Han and Luke, who were just two men; not princesses. They had destinations only, not a war, and they were eating eggs but she slept on.

"Duller," she heard Luke say. "Don't you think?"

"You're worried?" Han's voice, actually listening.

"Yeah, aren't you?"

Her father, legs crossed in his favorite winged back chair so she could see the design on the leg of one sock, turning a palm up, "If it's what we have to do," his smile so resigned, tender, loving.

Luke and Han quickly cut off their own conversation. "Morning, Highness," Han greeted her casually. "They're giving food away. Less to carry when they leave. Want some?"

She nodded, hungry but not for food.

"See?" Luke said.

Her father, her father, her father. Alive.

Dark eyes and hair, a carefully trimmed beard. The details: smile lines at his eyes, thick lips, the life in those eyes. That last smile he gave her.

Forgiveness. That's what it was.

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't- he-

All that life, and she knew it, like her own; she could emsee/em it, feel it. How could something like that… go away? Be ki-

It couldn't. She loved her father. That would keep him alive. It was all she had.


	7. Denial, II

Denial, II

Han watched Leia order her eggs about on the plate, pushing them this way with the fork, then that way.

"You always eat like that?" he asked.

She looked up to also find Luke mournfully watching her. "Like what?"

"Are you organizing it by color?" Han persisted.

"I wouldn't call it eating," Luke said.

"Princess Leia Organa-izer," Han said.

He was so irritating that she found even her sore throat faded to the background. "I'm not organiz-" she began, then stopped. Whatever he wanted, if he wanted to go back to the Death Star and resume how they talked to each other, if he wanted- She didn't want to, didn't care. She didn't have the energy.

"Food gets bitten," Han said. "Not words. Eat before it gets cold."

"It's already cold. And it's probably not good. Chow." But she took a bite.

"Guess what," Luke said, like a kid with a secret, "General Dodonna was here, talking to Han."

"Mind your own business, big mouth."

"Recruitment speech?" Leia guessed, because Luke wanted her to. Luke wanted her to participate, the same as the captain wanted her to eat. Life saving measures, she thought dully.

Han grinned. "He bites words too. No," he leaned back casually, spread an arm over the back of the seat, the kid that owned the secret, "he was just telling me things."

Leia stared at the table. She felt like she possessed great foresight. Or more, like an omniscience. Luke's eager delight, Han's casual negligence. A general, talking to a smuggler, and they thought they could surprise her. "Peddling rumors, Captain?"

"Han's got a charter already," Luke spilled the secret, unable to contain himself. He was happy about it, Leia saw; happy that he wasn't going to lose Han yet. It wasn't the same loss as Luke suffered by General Kenobi or his aunt and uncle, but losses tended to add up.

"That was fast," Leia commented. They deserved a dose of reality. "Back in your Hutt's good graces now that you have money?"

Han brushed her off. "I'd be a fool to step on Tatooine," he said. "Not after a certain incident in the cantina."

"That was Ben cut off that guy's arm," Luke frowned. "What's the Hutt got to do with that?"

"Not that," Han scowled. "Not everything revolves around you, you know."

"So what happened in the cantina? He knows you left with us?"

"He knows he's down a bounty hunter," Han grumbled sourly.

Luke shook his head, disappointed. "How do you live with yourself?" he wanted to know. "I'm exhausted just thinking about you. Almost getting caught smuggling, crime bosses, bounty hunter. It sounds like everything lately is just blowing up in your face."

"Better hope you don't," Han snapped. The answer seemed to please Luke, who caught Leia's eye and gave her a secret smile.

"Dodonna offered a charter?" Leia returned the men to the subject at hand. She thought about Luke, who would see Han again, which meant she would too, but she couldn't decide how to feel about it. It should matter, she thought, but she was so torn it was easier not to think about it. On the one hand, she hated having to borrow only to return, whether it was a gown or the friendship of a man, and on the other hand the thought of tending to something, something she'd gained, something she should care for, was exhausting.

"Rumor is, a Star Destroyer is on its way to check out what's here. Of course, they won't find anything, and I bet they know that. But what's left of the fighting forces is going to scatter for a time."

Leia nodded. The Empire would find on Yavin what they found on Dantooine. Evidence of occupation. The stone temples would hold no interest, and she wondered if they would still be standing after the Empire left. "You're helping to dismantle the base."

Han shrugged. "I'll be lifting off no matter what. Might as well carry some freight while I'm at it."

"General Dodonna also said we'll be able to catch a transmission of Mon Mothma's speech," Luke said.

"That's the other rumor," Han confirmed. "Mon Mothma is going to name a capitol for the New Republic."

"Aren't you just full of information this morning," Leia said, and Han grinned rakishly.

"How, though," Luke said. "Or why, is what I've been wondering. If the Empire can come and capture it..."

"It will be in name only," Leia answered. "For the purposes of establishment." She felt weary. "She's been in hiding. She can't emerge yet."

"And now we'll be in hiding," Luke concluded.

Mon Mothma had been in hiding for some time. Not Leia's father, who had remained in full sight of the Emperor as Viceroy of Alderaan. Mon didn't dare set foot on Coruscant, where the Imperial Senate met, for fear of arrest, but Viceroy Organa enjoyed a position of planetary power on a world committed to peaceful relations. The pair's treason had begun before Leia was born, when Palpatine was still Supreme Chancellor and steering the Republic to its death.

What a long time, she realized now. Her mind flashed to the sitting room off her father's office, all the diplomatic overtures he made from there. He had a favorite chair, and used to sit fully back in it, comfortable with himself, with his influence. From that chair, he had managed to get pledges of support, funds, information. All under Palpatine's admittedly suspicious nose, all under the pretense of embracing the Empire's might.

Why weren't you in hiding, Leia wanted to know.

No one had confirmed anything to her, said for sure. We heard about Alderaan, Dodonna said. Nothing about her father. Leia knew about Alderaan; she'd been on the bridge of the Death Star and seen it happen. But it was a planet: vast; colored by its features, not its people. It blew up, and it stood to reason everything on it did, too. Her people. Leia closed her eyes against a flood of faces; for some reason she saw the servants in the household, not her friends. But her father... she could see him, his socks, everything, right before her eyes. There was no evidence, no-

He was the Viceroy. He would stay with his people. It wasn't evidence but it was fact. She knew him. But he had the Rebellion, too, what he'd been working in secret for years to make happen. He would want to continue.

"Today's the first day of the rest of our lives, huh Leia," Luke announced, jerking her from her reverie. "Makes me shaky."

"What?" Leia brought her eyes to Luke.

"I'm going to take the oath today. Did you do it?"

"The oath?"

"For formally enlisting."

"Oh. No, I haven't." Leia took a breath, putting her father away, but only for the time being. "I've only passed information along, on behalf of my father, through my contacts as a senator. Just a couple of times. He didn't want attention directed at me."

Luke nodded eagerly. "There wasn't time yesterday, but they said they'd administer it posthumously if I got killed in the battle, for my heirs. Even though I don't have any."

"Someone'd show up," Han stated, steering the subject in a different direction. "It's found money."

"What do you mean?" Luke was naive. "Someone pretends they're a relative?"

"After a time unclaimed benefits go back to the treasury," Han explained. "They put out a list every year. It's easy enough for someone to look at the names and get proof of inheritance. All you need is a death date, and where it occurred." He looked only slightly contrite. "I did it once."

Leia stirred. She thought of the recent dead, and that someone was waiting to violate their estate. "That's a sleazy thing to do," she said.

"Look who's making royal proclamations," Han mocked, but turned more serious. "Even I know it was. S'why I'm not a full-time con. Takes a special sort. But I paid my tuition at the Academy with it. Still use the alias."

Luke grinned down at his plate and brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth. "There's a lot in that statement," he said. "That you're a part-time con. I'm going to have to think about that. And you went to the Academy. Did you become an Imperial pilot?"

Han's gaze was level at Luke. "I did."

"Not gonna hold it against you," Luke said gamely. "I wanted to, too. For a while, it was the only show in town. Now there's another side."

"The losing side."

"Not yet," Luke said cheerfully, and he pushed his plate away and stood up. "What do you say, Leia? Want to be a Rebel? Guess I know not to ask you, Han."

Leia stood slowly. "The first day of the rest of my life," she said.

The oath was words, cleverly arranged to pledge life and heart to the New Republic. There were so many religions in the galaxy that a catchall phrase was used.

"Is your promise," General Dodonna had his right hand raised. He referred to a note on a flimsi quickly, double checking the name, "Luke Skywalker, given freely and truthfully, and sworn under the divinity of your world?"

Luke was moved, his Adam's apple bobbing emotionally, his hand also raised. "Yes, Sir."

"State your world, soldier."

"Tatooine." After a heartbeat, Luke added, "Sir."

"State your divinity, soldier."

"Uh, the Maker. Sir."

"Princess Leia Organa, is your promise given freely and truthfully, and sworn under the divinity of your world?"

It was an oath, a rite, but she thought Dodonna would alter the wording, because of- due to the circumstances. She hadn't expected him to even mention her planet. What good was the oath without a world?

"Yes." Leia's voice came out cloudy, and she cleared her throat.

"State your world, Princess Leia."

Leia didn't want to, and her body tensed, as if bracing for impact. "Alderaan."

Nothing happened. General Dodonna only added, though his voice might have held a ruefulness, "State your divinity, Princess Leia of Alderaan."

"The... Twelve Goddesses." She looked down at the floor, wondering if her oath were false. There was no one to entrust her soul to.

"As Commander of the Armed Forces, and with the powers held bywith, I hereby add you to the ranks of the Alliance to Restore the Republic." Dodonna lowered his hand. "Congratulations, and thank you. May the Force be with us."

"May the Force be with us," Luke and Leia echoed.

It was only them, so there were more witnesses than enlistees. Han and Chewie were watching near the rear, ready to slip out, and all of leadership council milled about. They came up to shake hands with Luke and Leia.

"Your Highness," a general spoke up. "I'm General Virdal. We didn't get introduced yesterday." He gave a pained smile. "It seemed a trivial detail when destruction was just moments away. "But I'm glad to meet you. I heard a lot about you from your father. I am the head of military information here. I communicated with him quite a bit." He paused and looked at Leia intently. "Your father awaited this day."

Leia nodded but said nothing. What was there to say? Yes, she knew that about her father. Better than perhaps this general, for by Leia's reckoning the man was not even Alderaani. But this day was here and her father was not. Was it supposed to please her?

They looked greedy, she thought. Eager. Predatory. Yesterday they lost almost the entire fleet but today they had their war. She thought of John Branon and his things, and all the boxes to be packaged according to the owner's wishes, and the letter that would accompany it.

We regret to inform you...

"We communicated with Senator Mothma last night," General Dodonna told Leia. "She asked about you and told us she sent a holomessage for you. It arrived earlier."

Leia had the feeling the general had already listened to the holomessage and knew its contents, but Leia only nodded. She wasn't surprised at Mothma's concern for her. They served in the Imperial Senate together, and Leia had known her all her life.

"It's a tricky time, Your Highness," a third general said. "General Matuux, at your service." He made a bow. "We have a government in theory only. No systems have joined as of yet. Hopefully, the fate of Alderaan will serve as a wake up call, and by the time we retire tonight several will have ratified the declaration. As it stands now, it is imperative we stay out of the Empire's way until we've rebuilt our resources to face them."

Hopefully. The word was like bile. "Yes," Leia agreed. A wake up call, her mind screamed internally. What was wrong with this man? Millions dead- dead. Did he not- Millions- She thought she might be sick, and her face fell chalk white. "If I could listen to Mon's message-"

"Certainly." Dodonna took her elbow. "Are you all right, Princess Leia?"

"Yes- Yes."

"This way." He paused before opening the door. "Your father was so proud of you, Your Highness. I hope you know that."

He took a breath, but Leia had no comment so he changed the subject. "There are some bureaucratic details to take care of, for both you and Skywalker," he continued. "Contact sheets, that kind of thing. You'll be given a CBA. It's policy for those who wish to return to duty. Under the circumstances, I don't think it's a bad idea."

Leia nodded and thanked the general, just to get rid of him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"We'll watch the declaration of war together as a base in the briefing theater," General Dodonna concluded. "I'll see you in an hour." He instructed a droid to set up Leia's holomessage. "Be sure we get you a comm," he noted before taking his leave.

Whatever the room's original intention, now it was obviously a conference room. The air was like everywhere else, cool and moist due to the stone and humidity. There was a pitcher of water on a table. Leia poured some into a cup, but her hand was shaking and she couldn't bring it to her mouth. "Start," she told the droid, and lowered herself gingerly, mindful of her body aching again, into a chair.

The little blue dimensional image of Mon Mothma appeared. She wore the same type of gown as Leia's Death Star gown, only Mon probably called it her Senator's gown.

"Leia," the image said. "Oh, sweet child. I hate- hate- sometimes the galaxy is so big and I cannot be with you. I just want to grab you up in a hug. I am so sorry." Mon Mothma looked straight into the recorder a long time. "There are no words, I find. You and I make our living with words, but I fail now. I have tears. I cry with you, for you. For our galaxy, for Alderaan.

"Leia. I can't pretend to understand I know what you are going through. It was so heartening to see a holo of you at the Medal Ceremony. You looked so beautiful in my gown. And you looked gracious, and wise.

"But I have a sense of you. I know you are not finished. Perhaps you are just getting started. It's one way to look at it, isn't it?

"We are at war now, Leia. We are an army. No longer a tiny band of terrorists. Things are going to get bad. The Death Star may be gone, but the citizens of the galaxy are in even more danger.

"Some have seen bad, Leia. Not all. They can't understand how it will get worse, or where, or when. But you do. I need you, Leia. I need you here with me."

Leia's lips parted and an odd feeling washed over her, part excitement and part dread.

"There will be worlds offering aid, worlds requesting aid. Alderaan still has her children scattered across the galaxy. They need your guidance.

"I wonder how your father's role would change, now that we have reached this point. Recruits will come on their own. I like to think Bail would see the same needs I have outlined, and I would be most honored if you would continue his work at my side."

Mon Mothma took a a quaking breath and was silent for so long that Leia thought perhaps she had finished and forgotten to turn the recorder off.

"I- never in my wildest dreams would I want this for you, Leia. Or for the galaxy. Never.

"I will see you soon. Even if you decide you cannot take on a role at this time, I will see you. I understand if you need time to think about this, and please do not feel pressured. Listen to yourself. Thank you, Leia. I send my love."

Mon Mothma gave a signal offscreen, and the image disappeared.

Leia rubbed a thumb, lost in thought. Mon treated her father as if he was dead. Of all the conspirators of twenty years ago, who met secretly in growing alarm at the liberties Republic Chancellor Palpatine was taking with his granted executive powers, Mon was the last one left. Over the years, there had been arrests, assassinations, disappearances, and forced resignations.

There had been no farewell between Leia and her father. She had left Alderaan two weeks ago, and he had come down to the landing pad but she was surrounded, she remembered, by advisers and maidens, and he had his own. Possessing a title meant rarely being alone. The crew of the Tantive IV lined up on either side of the ramp, their arms up to form an arch for her to travel under. She had only waved at her father.

Leia slid a data board to her. Each seat around the table was equipped with one. She activated it, and wrote in it.

You may have heard I am presumed dead, Father. And I have to presume that of you.

Mon was right. There were no words. She closed up the board and took it with her.

Luke was waiting for her, and he had put the time to good use, filling out the information required of new enlistees. He waved her over and passed the forms to her.

"I put Han down as my beneficiary. It's not stupid, is it? I don't have any heirs, and seems like he needs the money. Not that it'll be much."

"He'll appreciate the joke," Leia said, but she thought Luke to be extraordinary. "I suppose you can always change it, should you get married or something." Her stylus was hovering over the form, and she filled in a line. "I'm alone in the galaxy, too, so he'll be mine as well."

Luke smiled. "Or Chewie. He's got to put up with him. Like hazard pay, right?" He picked up a form. "I did this already, too."

Leia looked at it. "Oh, the CBA." The initials, she learned, stood for Comprehensive Behavioral Assessment. "How was it?"

Luke shrugged. "Harmless. Except for Wedge. He's mad. My wingman. My new wingman," Luke corrected. "They've grounded him."

"Why?"

"I told him he shouldn't be mad. Some of his answers indicated an irrationality. You know, he was with those guys over a year. Training with them, living with them. They were real tight, and now he's stuck with the newbie, me. That's what tipped the counselor off. He's pissed I survived."

"Oh, Luke."

Luke waved his hand rapidly, trying to vaporize her pity. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. He's not going to kill me or anything. Nothing like that. He's a good guy. We'll fly well together; I know we will. It just doesn't seem fair to him."

Leia nodded. Could she hate Yavin that it was spared the Death Star and not Alderaan? Could Dantooine hate her that she nominated it as a target of the Death Star? "I can understand his viewpoint."

"Yeah, I can too! I told mine, the counselor, I feel guilty I survived. And it's like rubbing sand in the wound that I'm the hero, you know?"

"So are you grounded too?"

"No. We talked a lot. Or I did," Luke suddenly flushed. "I told her about my aunt and uncle, and Ben, and being a Jedi. And she said I'm dealing well with it. The... the grief. You know." He smiled sheepishly. "It's even hard to say. She said my upbringing on Tatooine, how common death is there; it's a tough place... Not that Beru or Owen- " Luke sensed he was starting to ramble and reined himself in. "She said my faith in my abilities, and the Force, and feeling so protective of the droids and of you, is a healthy way to channel it."

"You feel protective of me?" Leia shook her head. "You shouldn't."

"I know. You're already a secret agent princess and I'm a farmer. I think it was the holomessage. You seemed so vulnerable."

"I was. I was under attack. My whole ship was." There was a detail in Luke's tale Leid didn't expect. "You said she?"

Luke confirmed it with a nod. "She's human."

"Hmm," Leia said. "Did you need an appointment?"

Luke looked like the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I don't think so. I just wandered up. She was packing. We did it pretty quick." He checked his chrono. "We better get going. 'Bout time for the speech."

General Dodonna had referred to the room as the briefing theater. Whatever the room was used for originally, it was clear the architects designed for an audience. Luke and Leia entered together at the rear of the room, and he wove his way down the large stone slabs to take a seat next to Wedge Antilles, the angry wingman, who nodded at him sociably. Leia walked down the broken center aisle, aware that a hush followed her wake.

General Virdal greeted her with a nod, and resumed his pacing. General Dodonna was running a test of the communications equipment with a droid. General Matuux was just entering. He saw Leia, and started to make his way to her.

Han Solo beat him to the front. Leia heard the Wookiee and turned her head; Chewie was on the other side of the aisle, three rows back. Han had probably been seated next to him.

"Oh, Captain..." General Matuux was surprised. He stood behind Han, taking the position of offense. "... Solo is it? This side is reserv-"

Han knocked the side of his head. "My ears," he said with a cluck. "Taken too much fire damage. Can't hear a damn thing."

"My sympathies," General Matuux began, looking to suggest a good spot to hear better other than next to Leia. He placed his hand lightly under Han's elbow. "Perhaps if we ask that gentleman to-"

With a slight twist of his waist and a step forward, Han freed his elbow and switched positions with the general. "And I can't see for shit either," Han said cheerfully. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked Leia.

She arched her brow as he sat, a smug grin on his face. He turned to to her and winked, the second time he had done that. "Part-time con man, you say?" she said.

He chuckled.

General Dodonna quieted the room. "I welcome you as members of the New Republic. We'll listen to the broadcast in a moment. Our first order of business is evacuation."

Someone sniggered, under their breath but it was audible in the acoustics of the theater, "First thing the New Republic does is hightail it out of some place."

Han turned his head around to catch the speaker but Leia maintained her gaze on the general, who was neither amused nor nonplussed. "Good leadership is knowing when to leave," he proclaimed. "If you wish to remain when the Empire arrives, good leadership also knows to make sure you have your cyanide pill. Am I understood?"

There was a murmur, and General Dodonna began to announce the order of evacuation.

Han leaned over toward Leia. "You take out that medscan yet?"

"No." Leia had forgotten.

"You should, you know. They got nice ones here, nothing like that antiquated one you rejected on the Falcon."

"I didn't reject it."

"Yes you did."

"I was only..." she pressed her lips together. "I was respecting protocol."

"They didn't."

"They don't know."

"They should have asked. I bet you're sore. Or worse."

She turned her face to observe him. He had a strong jawline, and there weren't as many laughlines as her father's face had. Instead there was a scar across his chin, and his deep set eyes weren't tender or forgiving, and not reciprocating at all. Yet he was the only one to ask.

What if he were to die, she thought out of nowhere. Be killed, by a bounty hunter or a Hutt. Or by a Tie fighter, like Luke could have been. Could still be.

They- she, him and Luke, had seen General Kenobi die. Struck by the red lightsaber blade of Darth Vader. Could she say it had been a good death? Was there such a thing? General Kenobi had not screamed in pain. He had not- now she thought about it- he had been dueling with Vader, but it wasn't a fight for his life. Not like they had, and she remembered the way she reacted to the wall closing in the garbage compactor, their desperate attempts to even hold it back with their bare hands.

Her father, in her dream of the night before, had sat in his chair, where he did all his negotiating. Had he fought for the planet's life? Would he? Would he do something like contact the Emperor, "if you could spare the planet and turn off that laser..."

General Kenobi was struck, and his body had just... crumpled, to the ground. Lifeless, as soon as the blade touched.

The laser had touched Alderaan, and it had... She shook her head slightly, lips grimacing delicately. How do you fight for your life, trapped on a planet?

The answer took her breath away.

You leave.

It could happen to Han, to Luke. It didn't seem like it could; Han next to her was warm, his arms crossed at his chest, and try as she might she couldn't make him look dead, even if Darth Vader marched in right now and recognized him.

General Dodonna stopped talking, and Leia realized she'd heard nothing. She would have to ask C-3PO later to fill her in on the details, what her role was. The lights were dimmed, and Mon Mothma's holographic image appeared, larger than in Leia's message. She was wearing black.

"Citizens of the galaxy," she began.

Leia usually saw her in white, as colleagues in the Senate. Or, the times she had visited Alderaan, but not for a while, not since Leia was a child, she wore other clothing. She liked swirled prints, Leia recalled, or embroidered jackets. Black was for the dead, she realized.

Keeping her voice low, she moved her torso closer to Han and asked, "Do you agree there'll be time to make a complete evacuation?"

"Yeah," he said. "The Imps are gonna waste time making a show of force. And the shielding'll let us know they've arrived, if we're still here."

She nodded, and had to really push to say more. "Like... on Alderaan. There was a shielding system in place. Not strong enough to... to..."

"No," Han agreed, his eyes on the image of Mon Mothma.

"How much t-? Do you think there was time?"

His eyes were on her again like before, long and deep. She liked it. Nobody had touched her, not even Luke, and she had hinted by kissing his cheek. No one could touch a princess; it was out of bounds. Han's eyes were reading her, kind of like a med scan would. Assess and diagnose. But he kept it to himself, whatever he read, and oddly she trusted him to know what to do. It was just his eyes, she thought. He had nice eyes.

Han sighed. "Time enough to get one's affairs in order."

But that was useless, Leia thought. They must have known there would be nothing for anyone to find. Unless he meant call each other, hug each other. Be with each other, when the end came.

"I bet some were able to leave," she said with quiet confidence.

"It's possible," he agreed. "Some probably did."

She nodded. He didn't say anything more, and they listened to Mon Mothma, who was in turns tearful, grimly outraged, and determined. When she finished speaking, General Dodonna addressed the assemblage again.

"Three world systems have seceded from the Empire since her speech first aired," he said. "Emperor Palpatine has refused to acknowledge the actions, saying no one leaves an Empire. He has sent Destroyers to each, for their protection, so he says."

"The bastard," someone muttered. People stood, looking at each other with varying degrees of hope and trepidation, and began to file out of the room.

"The gown was Mon Mothma's," she said quietly to Han as they got to their feet.

"Hm?" he lowered his ear nearer her mouth.

"The gown I wore last night. Remember you were wondering about women?" Both looked around the darkened auditorium, as if some would suddenly appear. "It was hers. She was here, and left it."

"Oh," he whispered back. "Solves that mystery."

"I'm going to get the gown, return it to the inventory," Leia told him as Chewie joined them. "Is the ramp up? I left it aboard the Falcon."

Chewie indicated it was, and Leia departed alone. An unsettling gleam was in her eyes, distant and consuming. It was like neurons firing, paths of rationale. From the gown to Leia, from Leia to Mon Mothma, from Mothma to her father. To the base.


	8. Observations, IV

Observations, III

Dr. Renzatl was not yet used to General Dodonna's gruff manner. Naturally, if she had more interaction with him, then she might understand him better. All she knew- and it wasn't from the man himself, so gossip, really- was that he had pulled himself out of retirement at the behest of Viceroy Bail Organa to head the military command of the fledgling Alliance Army. His gruffness might stem from his position, Dr. Renzatl considered. He had no equal here. And there had been a tremendous amount of pressure. It was always lonely at the top.

The day after the battle, the pressure was gone. His bushy eyebrows were elevated slightly, as if something had taken him by surprise and he hadn't gotten over the shock yet. His manner was somber, weighed down by the fresh losses, and at the same time he was buoyed with an optimism. Dr. Renzatl was touched he had come himself.

The exposed vulnerabilities of the day before caused an awkwardness between them. Dr. Renzatl could remind him how he believed the battle was a failure and he could point out how she had sat on the floor, hiding her head, so they exchanged brief pleasantries instead. It didn't take General Dodonna long to get to the purpose of his visit. He pulled a bundle of flimsies from an inner coat pocket and bounced them against his palm. He stood there, considering Dr. Renzatl while sucking on a cheek.

"We're taking in Alderaan, or what's left of her," Dodonna finally began without preamble. "I don't know if you watched the transmission."

It was a question, and Dr. Renzatl shook her head no. She had not sat with the rest of the base in the briefing theater while General Dodonna played a re-broadcast of Senator Mothma's speech. Apparently he had noticed she was not in attendance.

"War has its own, very public face," she explained. "I know that's why you had the men gather. But I deal with the inner conflict. Underneath the triumph, one often finds a different war. To inflict such damage, to watch your friends die... it is not so easy the day after."

Dodonna nodded impatiently. "Antilles talked with you."

Dr. Renzatl scowled as much as her lower ranking would allow. Dodonna was chief here. The men were his; they were willing to give their lives. But they kept a piece of themselves, a bit of their souls, and sometimes they entrusted her with it, and she would protect that and never surrender it, not even to the highest command.

"He anticipated his CBA," she said, a little tartly. "It wasn't just for him I stayed away. It was for all of them. War hurts, even for the victor. They might be stomping their feet and cheering, but they are also looking around at each other, wondering if anyone else is feeling a little phony. I couldn't be a part of that group. They need to know that there is a place, someone they can go to, who understands war isn't as simple as right or wrong, good and bad."

"This war is to depose Palpatine," Dodonna declared. "Nothing else. There wouldn't be a need for you or for me if that bastard hadn't messed up the whole galaxy. Blowing up that Death Star wasn't enough. I'm not satisfied; it can't fix what he did to Alderaan."

"Of course not," Dr. Renzatl murmured. "It's affected us all, as citizens of the galaxy. We haven't even begun to comprehend how it will change things."

"It's unreal," General Dodonna barked out. He continued to stew a moment. "Mon Mothma has declared those offplanet at The Time First Citizens of the New Republic. She's setting up a territory for them. I think right now," Dodonna's gray eyes drifted thoughtfully to the horizon, "it's a refugee camp." He eyed her wryly. "Ready to expand your office?"

It was a poor attempt at irony, or maybe an excellent example of it; Dr. Renzatl wasn't sure, but it fell flat, for the both of them. She made no response.

Dodonna handed her a sheet of flimsi and changed the subject abruptly. "Evacuation assignments," he explained. "Pack up your office. Find your name, and be on that transport. Starting tomorrow. Not a terrible hurry. The Empire is reeling from its own loss. The _Executor_ will be conducting the search for us. That's Vader's flagship, and they were waiting for him to rendezvous with it." He tsked. "Damn shame he managed to survive. You don't want to be left behind."

He turned to go. "Oh, that reminds me," and he peeled away two more sheets of flimsi. "We lost a lot of pilots," he said regretfully. "A lot of good men. I'm not going to forget that." It was a way of apology for his bad taste earlier, and Dr. Renzatl accepted it with a nod.

"But," Dodonna continued, "of the three that arrived with the Death Star on their tail, two have joined. Here's their paperwork. I told them to report for CBAs."

Dr. Renzatl took the flimsis and glanced at the top sheet. "Was the third killed?" she assumed.

General Dodonna made a sour face. "No," he said, dripping disapproval. "He flies for hire, and he'll do anything, according to his record. Except, apparently, identify with a cause." He thought something to himself, and then grunted. "You'd probably have a field day with him.

"Evacuation is a priority," Dodonna continued. "We're not observing office hours."

Dr. Renaztl lifted her brows, suspecting Dodonna had just revealed his attitude about TRAD.

"But we need these two in the system. I'd appreciate your flexibility. If they come, see them."

It was an order. "Yes, Sir," Dr. Renzatl answered.

Luke Skywalker came not long after Dodonna had departed. Renzatl had summoned a droid crew to begin the process of breaking down the office. She was cross-referencing flimsis with transcriptions, ensuring they could be destroyed. Labor droids were removing bolts from the desk. There were still two chairs, and she and Luke dragged them to a far corner to talk. Dr. Renzatl set up the recorder for the transcript and placed a writing board on her lap to make notes with a stylus.

In her first impressions, she noted Luke to be a bit shy, but also a bit bold. He was very young, only nineteen, and his eyes were fresh and wide and blue. He was in uniform, eager to take on this new role as an Alliance pilot. He spoke fluidly about a lot of things and openly, with no concern for anyone else in the room who may overhear.

As he spoke, she realized his biography was remarkable, and then it was not. He was orphaned at birth, which, unfortunately, was not uncommon in this day and age, but he said he "came" to his aunt and uncle- not that he was taken in by them, which Dr. Renzatl found significant- and was raised on their moisture farm on Tatooine.

Neither his aunt nor uncle liked to talk of his parents, Luke told her. (His uncle and Luke's father were stepbrothers). They claimed to not know the identity of his mother, and possibly they lied about his father, but Luke only just found out and wasn't sure if that was true, either.

"The last few days have been a whirlwind," he confessed. "My uncle bought these droids, and one ran away, and it's the droid the Princess stowed the plans to the Death Star in. She and it are why we're here today."

Luke proceeded to tell of chasing the droid across the desert, followed by an attack of natives. Dr. Renzatl was so... entertained, she guessed was the word for it, that her stylus only hovered above the writing board, and she neglected to make a note of the name of this violent group. But at the end of the story, this attack, which would be a life-changing event for most, is tossed in, like a spice, for flavor.

It was almost too much to believe. The mundane against the astounding, the coincidence against random events. Dr. Renzatl began to suspect that Luke lived in a fantasy world. She knew he was the one responsible for destroying the Death Star: even remaining an outsider to those here she had caught enough snatches of awed conversation to learn that much. She also knew he had escaped from the Death Star, but there is only so much extraordinary that can fit in a tale.

Luke was saved by a- again, her face must have held an expression of wonder or disbelief, for he laughed, and said, "I know, it's crazy. But the droid was looking for Ben, a Jedi Knight disguised as the Dune Sea Crazy."

This Jedi Knight, Luke went on to explain, possessed his father's lightsaber, weapon of the Jedi, and claimed to be his father's best friend.

"Why was he there?" Dr. Renzatl had to ask.

Luke's brows shot up. "Why was-?"

"How did your droid know he was there? and why _was_ he there, and why didn't he bequeath you your father's possessions sooner?"

If Luke were the Dune Sea Crazy, and to Dr. Renzatl this was a definite possibility, Luke would have a ready answer.

Luke stared at her, and his lips parted a bit. "I don't know," he said slowly.

"I certainly don't mean to complicate things," Dr. Renzatl said.

Luke kept frowning. "The droid knew because the Princess told it. She enclosed a message. But-"

Dr. Renzatl wanted to steer Luke away from dwelling on the motivations of the Jedi Knight. This was Luke's session. "Tell me more about your aunt and uncle. You said you came to them. How old were you?"

"A baby. Newborn. Days old, I guess. My aunt said my mother died in childbirth. And she always said it that way. 'When you came to us.' You know, like that. They didn't know about me. I don't think they were close with my parents. I was completely unexpected. My aunt kept me in a drawer." Luke smiled sadly.

"Newborns don't get places by themselves."

"No," Luke agreed. "Maybe Ben brought me," he added brightly. "Maybe he was with my father when he was killed. Leia said he was probably in hiding."

His eyes drifted to the work of the labor droids, as if the neat stacking of boards and bolts could give him a more defined explanation of his origins.

"My aunt and uncle were killed while I was chasing the droid to Ben," he finally said softly.

Dr. Renzatl straightened in her seat and recorded the information. _Now we are getting somewhere,_ she thought to herself. "How did you learn of their deaths?" Often, she knew, a support network developed almost immediately after a sudden death. Neighbors, other relatives, and even friends might step forward to help out.

"I went home." Luke's voice grew hushed. "I saw them. They set my house on fire." His eyes made contact with hers. "I guess the Empire traced the droid to our home, and came out to question my aunt and uncle.

"And you know-" he leaned forward, "they're heroes. Because I was supposed to be home too, we were all supposed to be at work. My uncle was... he was a good man, hard working. Honest. And if he got a sense that the droid was bigger than us, he'd want it to stay that way. Not give him up, or me." Luke nodded to himself. "He put up a fight. I know he did. That's why they're dead. He was tough. And principled. He was leaving me a message. He was telling me, finish this, follow this through. Don't let anyone live their lives that when the doorbell rings and they see the Empire's come calling, that it means they should be afraid or they're gonna die. No one should live like that."

Luke leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "So I went with Ben. My uncle's right. Not past tense. I know he's dead, but anyway he's right. So I'll... it's like he gave me a job, or he's letting me make their deaths matter. You know?" Luke's voice caught. "It was a horrible way to die."

Dr. Renzatl waited for Luke to say more. He was silent for a time. "He gave me that. A job, or, I don't know. A way to, to channel this. I feel like taking action," he grimaced, "it's hard to say what it means, how I feel. But, like I can accomplish something? And that makes it easier? I don't know."

"You don't sound like you are in the whirlwind when you speak of your aunt and uncle," Dr. Renzatl observed.

"What do you mean?"

"You described the past few days as a whirlwind. That phrase, to me, suggests being overwhelmed. But you are very clear in your feelings for them. I sense the loss of your family, your love for them, and how you want to honor them."

Luke nodded. "I guess so," and he looked like he might cry.

She gave him a moment, in case he decided to, but he fought it back. She placed a box of tissues by the toe of his boot just in case. "So what's in the whirlwind?" she prompted.

His hands left his chest and collapsed into his lap. "Me," he said after a time. "Ben."

"How so?"

"I found out I have the Force! I wouldn't believe him about my father being a Jedi, you know 'cause he was The Crazy of the Dune Sea, he might say anything. And I don't know how hard it is to come by a lightsaber- do you? Do you know how many Jedi Knight there were?"

Dr. Renzatl shook her head. "It was an exclusive, specialized group. I assume, not many."

"Right, so, maybe he had one and called it my father's. But he had one, too. And he used it. And he was teaching me, during the flight, and he was- different."

"Different?"

"Not at all like The Crazy! He was full of information, and knowledge, and he was calm, and he made sense. And-" his voice dropped to a whisper, "-and I do have it. The Force. I felt it. I could... feel it. And use it."

Luke looked at Dr. Renzatl sorrowfully. "It's like, all of a sudden, I'm not who I was. All the time, just a moisture farmer, but now I could be a Jedi like my father, and I never knew he was!" Charmingly, Luke's hands swirled all around his head.

"You believe this Ben, then," the doctor observed.

Luke nodded slowly. "I do."

"Then you will pursue the Jedi arts?"

"I'd like to, but I don't know how. Ben- I lost him."

"You lost Ben?"

"Yeah. He... he didn't leave the Death Star with us. He... kind of disappeared."

"Luke," Dr. Renzatl put up a hand. Luke was so eloquent a moment ago and now she wondered again if perhaps he was The Dune Sea Crazy. "I'm not sure I understand. One doesn't disappear without more to the story. Was he captured? Did he escape? Do you think it's possible you'll hear from him again?"

"Oh, yeah," Luke was very sure. "I already did. In here," he pointed to his chest. "But I don't think I will very often. I tried earlier, and there's nothing."

Luke seemed to be slipping even further. Dr. Renzatl only looked at him with her brows up, waiting to see what else he might offer.

"Ben gave me something, too," Luke said. "Like my uncle." He smiled broadly. "You look like you think I'm crazy. And believe me, I know why I'm here. But if I don't say this now, if I don't state it as fact, then I think the Jedi will never be able to come back. Knowledge of the Force will be dead.

"Ben is dead, too," he said.

"Go on," the doctor encouraged, glad to hear some reality injected into his story.

"We saw him struck down by Darth Vader. You know how when someone dies beings all sit around and tell stories? Share memories?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, it's like that, only it's not a memory; it's life. Mind you, I've only had a couple of days to think about this, but death has as much," Luke was concentrating fiercely, "_presence_ as life, does that make sense? First one, then the other. Like a state of existence. And it's not something to fear, and it's a change you don't have to want or like, but it doesn't have to break your heart, you know?"

Luke sighed and pushed against the back of his chair with his own back. He gazed thoughtfully at the wall across from him. "I wish I could tell that to Leia. I don't know if that explanation fits, though. This is the best I've expressed it, but I don't know if it's enough."

Luke sulked in silence and Dr. Renzatl sought a way to prompt him. "When you say 'Leia'..."

"Leia," Luke said again, as if that's all required to know. "The Princess from Alderaan."

"Oh," Dr. Renzatl exclaimed, caught up. She'd never heard the name without the title. "Princess Leia. Yes, I know who you mean. Do you think it's different, as you've explained the Force to me, a difference in a personal death compared to a genocide of millions?"

"I'm worried about her," he said, barely listening, then added, showing he was listening, "it's not different. I mean, it is, by numbers and, and the evil. You know my aunt and uncle were killed like that, slaughtered. Burned. That... motive, on the killer's part. Is that what it is? Motive? Or just that they were able to do it. Something in them so cruel and callous and uncaring. _That's_ what makes me sad, that someone could lack any feeling or regard for another."

"What about the men who served on the Death Star? It seems you bear the burden for costing them their lives. "

"I'm not... uncaring, if that's what you're after."

"I'm not after anything. Do you hate them as your enemy?"

Luke shifted in his seat, eyes directed toward the floor. "They are the enemy, and I guess that's what war is. But, really what it comes down to, is they believe in something, and they signed up to protect what they believe in."

"As you did."

"Right. And, for all of us-" Luke's eyes lifted to the doctor's- "we know there's a risk. We have to assume the risk that fighting for what we believe in can kill us. So, no. I don't _hate_ them. I'll do what I have to to win, if it means they die... I hate the men that killed my aunt and uncle, because they weren't part of this war. They were just farmers, not risking anything. And they were murdered."

"So for you the concept of duty is very clear."

"Yes." Luke changed the subject abruptly."Is it possible to get worse?"

"Are you talking about murderers? There are some who-"

"No, I mean Leia. She's worse."

"Worse, how?"

"Well, when we first met her, she was all spitfire. She could sum up a situation in a blink of an eye and she had a real sharp tongue. She and Han-" Luke broke off, chuckling. "Anyway, when we left the Death Star, she seemed driven. It was all about "reach the base"_._ It was a long trip, and that's what she focused on. But, since we've been here, she's different. She's quieter, and her eyes aren't as bright. This dull brown. It's like, the Death Star is gone, and she doesn't know what to do."

"It's possible that's exactly how it is for her. Grieving is a very complex, multi-layered process." Dr. Renzatl was aware she was falling into the pattern of lecturing, but it was exciting to talk to this young man. His story was incredible, but he also possessed an innate sense of the human nature. And she was old enough to remember the Jedi. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"It's never only about sadness," she continued. "A being may feel anger, or guilt. Given who your friend is, she might have all those complicated emotions on a personal level, and then also as a princess."

"Yeah," Luke agreed morosely. "I wish I could help better. I'm just there, you know. If she wants to talk, but she never will. Han does a little better. He makes these distractions she can't help notice and she'll get mad. He knows what he's doing, too, I've seen the look come in his eye."

"Who?"

"Han. The other one on the Death Star with us. He calls himself a part-time con man, but I don't think he's trying to get anything out of her other than a reaction. Not any more money, anyway."

Dr. Renzatl smiled slightly at Luke, who continued to rattle off descriptions of his two new friends. It came to her attention that she had been introduced to the third newcomer, the one General Dodonna thought she would have a field day with, and felt a twinge of regret that she wouldn't have a chance to talk with him.

"A con man and a Princess," she remarked. "How do you see yourself?"

"Between them," Luke grinned. "Oh, you mean like by a label?" Luke shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see Princess as better, or smuggler- he smuggles, too- as worse. I'm a farm boy. And I feel like, they're important. Important to me, 'cause they helped me-"

"Did they? Help you?"

"Oh, yeah. We made sure we all stayed alive, you know. Watched out for each other."

"And what about now?"

"Now...yeah." Luke nodded to himself. "I know the Death Star was a time. I know Han wants to leave, and I know Leia's gonna be the Princess again. I'm the one who'll change. I'm not the farm boy anymore. I don't know who I'll wind up being, I know what I want, but all I know so far is I won't be the farm boy ever again."

"You want to be a Jedi. How does that fit in between a Princess and a con man?"

"It fits the same," Luke insisted. "And-" he flushed, "- you're probably going to ground me for this-"

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "Tell me anyway."

Luke smiled shyly. "It doesn't feel like an accident, a one time thing. We were talking last night- Han and Leia and me- I brought this up, how Ben, the Crazy of the Dune Sea, each of our paths led to him, and he led us here. Like," Luke shook his head, "I'm not gonna say it was supposed to happen, but," he stopped, and held Dr. Renzatl's eyes, his own clear and frank and awed, "it did."

"They mean something to you," she told him.

Luke's body trembled. "Is that what it is?" he asked. "My friend Biggs did too, but knowing him was like knowing me, my life, nothing extraordinary, you know. I loved him, but he was like me. I woke up, he did too, we went to school. Han and Leia," Luke paused to think, "they're not me at all. One is so far above me. I can't even imagine what her life was like. And her planet is gone- that's just unfathomable. And Han's life- being on the run, needing to wear a blaster all the time 'cause he thinks someone's going to shoot him," Luke shook his head again. "I don't get it. But yeah," he finished softly, "they mean something to me. I needed their help, and if I'm around when they need mine, I'll be there. Because... because I want to."

Dr. Renzatl cleared Luke for duty while he talked on. Possibly she was wrong. She had to question herself, was he in denial, or had the trauma he suffered caused a delusional break? If so, then he was very clever to maintain the ruse, and while he had a certain intelligence, she didn't think he was capable of keeping the smokescreen. Despite a bizarre story, Luke was warm and compassionate and she believed him. Life had put him into the situation of trying to figure himself out, and he'd already come farther than most do before they die.


	9. Despair

The _Falcon_ was a safe place, a good place. Leia didn't know what it meant to be safe, not anymore; it was a feeling. An instinct.

Safe from all out there, was what she was thinking.

She twisted around from the top of the ramp to view what was behind her. Was she that scared of suck sand? She didn't really think so. It was frightening stuff, to be sure, but the paths were marked and she knew about it. And the ship couldn't really keep her safe from it, unless she never left it. Which, admittedly, had a certain appeal. It was like a retreat.

She suspected the answer, the real answer, was...

Perhaps she worried about the Empire, out there somewhere like a gathering storm, and she had a history with the Empire connected with the _Falcon_. She- they- had escaped. Together, damaged but functioning, and they had an inner strength derived from the burning desire to achieve...

It was the last thing she had accomplished. Her arrival here marked the end of Princess Leia. She was like that little butterfly, she realized with a pang, the one she saw at the window in her father's conference room.

It occurred to her she really knew nothing anymore. What she did know- that it was she that was supposed to be dead; not millions, not her father- was in error. It wiped everything else about her away. What was beautiful, what was true: she could no longer say.

There was a certain _tradition_ in war. Traitors were executed, not planets. Mixed in with her self doubt was a seething anger at Grand Moff Tarkin, that he would be the one to turn her into this... this person she had become, unsure and harsh but frightened and confused.

Did she recognize herself on the _Falcon_? Was that why she liked to be here?

The _Falcon_ wasn't her assigned evacuation transport, and she wasn't pleased about that. Leia wasn't pleased about anything concerning the evacuation. Her only task, after checking with C-3PO and then double checking with General Dodonna, was to board the correct transport, tomorrow. The hours ahead seemed interminable and difficult, and she didn't want to do it.

But again, she couldn't settle on what exactly bothered her. Was it she didn't want to evacuate? Didn't want to wait? Didn't want to board a strange transport? None of those made any sense though the answers came meekly: _yes, yes, yes_, and she scolded herself sternly. She was being ridiculous.

She had come to get the gown. She had brought it here to keep Mati safe. That was the only thing Leia knew how to do. The moment Luke had suggested they move to the _Falcon_, Leia scooped the gown up. Because when Mati opened the box of her son's belongings, the white gown could absolutely not be there.

Leia had removed it so the droids wouldn't pack it with the deck of cards, or the candy, or his letter to his mother. Leia wanted Mati to only cry, and if she pulled the gorgeous shimmer silk gown out of the box, she would whisper to her son, _what is this, John?_ And she would rub the expensive shimmer silk between her fingers, and it would open a hole of doubt and insecurity. _Don't I know you, John? I am your mother._ The rest of her life, Mati would wonder why. And she would miss her son, but sometimes, she would resent him. And sometimes, she would question his love.

She could leave the gown here. Leia considered it, folded neatly on the floor. Captain Solo would probably not care. Mon Mothma might not either, though the gown was no doubt expensive. He might sell it, or cut it up for polishing rags. Or he might leave it whole, and wait for her to be able to return it to Mon Mothma.

It was so elegant and lovely. So very out of place. Still, even with putting a name to the gown. Mon Mothma was a sophisticated woman, with measured, thoughtful phrasing. Leia could picture her wearing it. But here? On a rough-hewn base of ancient stone and suck sand? Did General Dodonna schedule some weird cocktail party? Was her father invited? Did they hold an earlier awards ceremony?

_Listen to yourself,_ Mon Mothma had advised. _Your father is dead_, Mon Mothma as much as said. _Alderaan's children are scattered across the galaxy._ Like the rubble of the planet, Leia told herself, only we don't have the gravity of the sun to hold us in one place.

_I need you here_, Mon Mothma said. She was suggesting Leia, with her experience and training as Princess and Senator, emerge, essentially as the new sun. Blaze a path toward a new life.

_I came to return the gown_, Leia answered Mon Mothma. _It's all I can do right now_. She thought she could trace the gown to her father, but as she looked at it, it seemed to echo Mon Mothma in her father's voice. I am dead, and Leia was scared to make the statement real.

Mon Mothma had left it behind. She was careful in her thinking but careless with her belongings. And Leia was a princess who had lost her planet. Somehow the two seemed very related.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yavin 4 was many things. Warm air and stone temples, fertile jungle and flashes of yellows and reds from the creatures that lived among the trees, hidden in the green vines.

Yet if Leia was to sit down and color a picture, it would be brown suck sand.

She drifted outside, and watched her feet to make sure she didn't wander into any of the sucksand patches. Somehow, she thought, of anything, that would be the death of her. She wouldn't be able to fight it, only avert her eyes and mouth as she slowly disappeared.

She was suffering and she knew it, but she resisted the Captain's insistence on getting a medical check up. What ailed her wouldn't show up on a medscan. If a med droid asked what her symptoms were, and she would only tell a droid, for a being would not be so understanding. She would tell the droid, "The Empire crumpled up my soul in their fist and put it in a waste bin."

In a way she wanted to keep the sluggishness and the aches. It wasn't that she deserved it, or earned it even- she deserved something; not a medal, but perhaps a scar. She only thought of that because the Captain had one, quite visible across his chin. And she'd heard a few ask him, _How did you get that-_ and he was so obviously tired of the question he gave different versions. No, even a scar could be perceived as valiant and she would never explain to them. They had to _know_, right off when they looked at her, how damaged she was, how much damage she had caused.

And her father was...gone. Most likely, that is; she still didn't know for sure. Only his continued absence the rest of her life would tell her he hadn't survived, and she'd only just started the rest of her life. On her deathbed, she confirmed to herself, and she would finally understand it. In her last words, she might finally be able to admit how her father died in the explosion.

But not yet. Not until-

If the Empire killed him, then not until the Empire was dead, too.

After wandering through three of the smaller temples Leia found the place where droids were readying shipment. This was another cavernous room, but different. The floor was earthen, not stone. Out of habit she checked for the telltale sign of suck sand. The walls narrowed as they rose, until there was a small square hole in the center at the top. Whatever the room had been, it was now a warehouse for the Alliance. Numerous items were spread out on the floor, and a series of crates was arranged along a side wall by a droid driving a forklift.

It was all droids, and Leia lifted her chin resolutely. She would get something done today.

"Excuse me," she stopped a labor droid holding a scan gun, and took a long look around. Much of it were items that belonged to the dead, she realized. John D. Branon's deck of cards was here somewhere.

"I have something for the inventory catalog," she told the labor droid. "I was told it belongs to Senator Mon Mothma."

"Checking," the labor droid said. After a moment, it announced, "There is no Mon Mothma stationed at this base."

"I know." It was almost funny, the way Mon Mothma's name, so famous, meant nothing because it wasn't on the list. It seemed to be too much detail to explain to the droid how she came in possession of the gown, so she merely held it up and asked, "does this have an item number?"

The droid read the scan result. "Ah," it said. "This came from VDQ."

"VDQ?"

"Visiting Dignitary's Quarters. Yes, a Mon Mothma was given the access code. She used it four times."

"May I - did Bail Organa have access to the VDQ?" Leia asked nervously.

"A Viceroy Organa is listed." The droid's orange photoreceptors focused on Leia. "Human male. One use."

"He's my father. Did he," she took a bracing breath, "did he leave... is there anything in the inventory as belonging to Viceroy Organa?"

"The room's contents are shipped together."

"I see." Leia thought a moment. "May I inspect the contents?"

"Processing request," the droid announced. Leia waited patiently. She much preferred to be dealing with a droid right now rather than a human.

"I see nothing regarding inspection, as irregular as the request is," the droid decided. "You may," and it led her over to a crate.

"Thank you," Leia told the droid. "I'll put the gown in." She got to her knees and lifted the lid off the crate.

There was a third dignitary that used the room, but since Leia had not asked she had not been told. She could guess, though. Gial Ackbar, the commanding officer of the Mon Calamari navy.

Ackbar's things were easy to identify: a spare globe helmet for breathing water, a set of clear tubes, some hydrating cream. Leia carefully lifted them out and set them aside. He would need them in good condition the next time he came.

Maybe the room was set up to meet the needs of those who would have access to it. Most of the Alliance members consisted of humans, but the Mon Calamari contributed warships and leadership staff.

Other items Leia recognized for human use. There were several tooth brushes, one razor, and several blazers that bore the Alliance insignia. She put them to her nose, hoping to be able to recognize her father's cologne, but she got nothing from them. She contemplated the razor a moment, thinking of her father's carefully shaped beard.

Mon Mothma's presence was identifiable. Evidently, she was not an organized packer. She had at one time or another left behind one sock, a scarf, and a data board charger.

At the bottom, almost unnoticed except for a hard bulge she couldn't smooth out under a blazer, Leia found a holocube. She rolled it around her fingers. _Oh, Pati,_ she breathed.

It was undeniably her father's, because of its contents. He had made one visit. And he had dropped the holocube, or left it behind, or maybe sat it on the bedside table, ready for his gaze upon his next visit.

He traveled with pictures of her. Her and her mother. She hadn't known that about him. He hadn't traveled much lately; he had to be careful, but discovering that he brought tokens of his love was unexpected treasure. It was a gift from beyond the grave. Something spiritual.

The were six holos. One of Leia as a little girl, running down a hill, her eyes watching the ground; Leia being sworn in as Senator; an official royal portrait of the family; and one of just her mother and father together. Leia looked longingly at the holo of her mother sitting in their private parlor, biting on a stylus and fake-snarling; in fact, Leia remembered that moment. The royal recorder had a new holomaker and he snapped a picture, just to test it out.

The last holo was curious. It was old; her father's hair was still dark, so it must have been taken years ago. He was standing, shaking hands with... Leia had to peer closely... Sheev Palpatine. The man in the picture looked nothing like the Emperor of today. He was actually not a bad-looking man, Leia considered fairly, when he was young. Palpatine blamed the Jedi for his ugly appearance now, and it was easy to see why people of the time would believe that. Obviously something had happened to turn his flesh like that.

She had a guess why her father had a picture of Palpatine. He was reminding himself of what had been, what should be. The holocube was the only deeply personal item in the crate. Her father had left his love behind, his ideas, his determination.

Beyond her control, her chin quivered, and sudden tears blurred the images of the holos. Leia swiped at her eyes angrily with a sleeve. She felt close to him right now, and that was not a sad thing. What was sad was-

She needed a few deep breaths, and something to occupy her mind. She watched the labor droids at work, and when she was calm again tucked the cube into her palm and walked back to the droid in charge with her sleeves long, hiding her hands. The scan code, attached with a weak adhesive, was larger than the cube itself and rubbed against her skin.

"How will all the items belonging to the dead be sent to family members?" she asked.

"All items will be transported to the new base. From there, belongings of the deceased will be processed. It will take some time. General Dodonna has ordered that we attract as little attention as possible by shipping in small amounts from different locations."

"What if- what if the... what if circumstances changed," Leia had to press her lips together, "and the shipping address is different. My father is... my father is also," she had to swallow, "deceased. And, the place to send his things, it's probably Alderaan, our residence at Aldera, and that is also..." The droid waited patiently while Leia gathered her thoughts. "May I claim them?"

"In the event of death the inventory is shipped according to the instructions set out by the deceased before death. You may resubmit a location, but you must show proof of death and establish your relationship to the deceased. If you wish to claim the items from base of service, proof of death as well as claim identity must be established."

Leia was familiar with the instructions. She and Luke had listed the Millennium Falcon as the final destination of their worldly goods.

"I..." It seemed futile. "I have no proof," she said. Leia was adopted; she couldn't even offer a genetic test to prove her relation to Bail Organa. "Is it possible the VDQ items can ship with me, as I am also going to the next destination."

The droid made a whirring sound. She had upset the programming, she saw. These were labor droids. Create scan labels, tag, and stow.

The droid spoke, "In the event of death the inventory is shipped according to the instructions set out by the deceased-"

She suddenly needed to stop. "Never mind," she told the droid. "It's all right. I'll- since we're evacuating, I understand you have your job to do. I can wait. I'll wait."

"Certainly. Thank you for visiting the Department of Personal Effects. "

"Thank you."

"Certainly."

Leia ripped the scan code off as she made her exit.


	10. Aspects

Once, Leia had been familiar with the idea of rest. But now, like eating or bathing- living, when it came down to it- she wondered, after everyone turned in, and they left her alone, what exactly she was supposed to do. What they expected of her.

She lay down on top of the sheet, still in her Death Star dress, her eyes wide at the ceiling, and she tried not to think. It seemed she did not deserve sleep. And then her body would betray her, for suddenly a voice warned her awake, _Leia! _which meant she had been asleep.

Sleep and wakefulness, so opposite and sudden. Like the difference between consciousness and death, Leia thought. When the laser touched Alderaan all those lives were snuffed.

_I am not dead. _

Her eyes traced the ceiling through the darkness, the smooth flatness, the rivets holding the panels in place.

_Sleep is different than death. I am not dead. _

She was breathing, conscious. Someday she would be dead, and she wondered what it would be like, to die. What it had been like for her father, for everyone. Her body was on top of a sheet, and she was aware of it, and imagined it shutting down, little by little, into death, as her mother's had done seven years ago.

Sometimes twelve year old Leia couldn't tell where the line separating mother and queen was drawn. The queen was not scared to die. Alderaan's history contained more than a thousand years of queens, and Breha Organa was content to have her time. But as a mother... Leia had seen something in her mother's eyes; she thought it was reluctance even though her mother did not fight. Hindsight told her Breha was scared for her daughter.

"Death will always join a family at some point," Breha wiped her daughter's tears away. "I can think of two constants in a family," she continued, "though there may be more. Death and love. Leilei. Look at me," and she lifted her daughter's chin. "Love doesn't die. And I love you."

_But a laser, Mati,_ Leia thought in her bunk. _Murder_._ Genocide. So different than an illness. _

Her father had sent the twelve maidens out of the queen's chamber. They had not wanted to leave. Some were crying. Leia had followed them out. Her father's dark head, bent low to her mother's face, her hand in his, turned. "Leia?" he said, pleading in his eyes. _Stay, _he was saying.

She stood outside with the maidens and listened to them cry quietly, and looked at her feet, because she was not crying.

Her mother had said goodbye to her already, when she knew there was no saving her. Outside with the maidens, Leia was grateful. When her mother said goodbye, she had been the woman Leia knew. Still cognizant, loving, and the- Leia felt bad for thinking this, because it wasn't a terrible... it was just... death's process- the odor hadn't started to issue from her mother's body yet.

In there, with her father... he was frightened, and so were the maidens, but Leia wasn't. Her mother was already gone, before the body's last breath. Leia knew it. She was a child. She wasn't a coward. She just wanted her mother, and the... the... how to say it? 'Body' sounded so crude, 'being' wasn't quite right, but whatever- _whoever- _was on that bed was not her mother.

It was death.

Leia was not afraid of death. Not then, and not now.

Death does what it is supposed to do.

She was afraid now, and she recognized the emotion as an intellectual exercise, and sought how to banish it. She needed to identify it first. Afraid of dying? Of lasers, or murder? Of being alone and having nothing? Of helplessness.

Watching, she decided. Watching a laser, which would murder so many as one planet; watching from afar as all those healthy beings were going about their days, dying and they weren't aware of it. Leia was watching, and she was helpless to do anything about it.

Worse if they were aware. As Viceroy, her father would calm the populace. Probably, he had lied to them about the scope of the disaster. Let them think there was a chance. Seek shelter, he might advise. A cellar. Go to the underground speeder routes. And there they would huddle, and wait; scared, yes, but hopeful too, that there was a chance, a chance they might survive this.

Maybe her father even believed it. The Death Star was the first of such laser technology. At the time Tarkin said, "You may fire when ready," it was a gamble how successful it would be.

Her memories- every time she had one, and since she had nothing else all she did was think of the past- they were a lie. Her mind showed her images, of a little butterfly at a window, of the servants going about their day in the palace, and everything was pointless. Twelve hundred years of civilization turned pointless when Princess Leia stood on the bridge of the Death Star, Darth Vader's fingers digging into her shoulders as their gazes beheld the planet Alderaan, and Grand Moff Tarkin's voice, so smooth and cultured, said, "You may fire when ready." He had chided her, "You are far too trusting."

No. Leia was aware she'd been cheated from seeing him aware of his own last moments, of seeing him afraid. Not too trusting. Too... How he _ruined_ everything, and her fists clenched the sheet on the bunk of the _Falcon_. That his ambition, so trivial in the face of a servant cleaning the chambers, was what threatened to destroy her. And she can't stop seeing him, that gaunt face, self-satisfied and triumphant, _you may fire-_

_Leia! _

Leia held her body still while her heart thumped so loud she couldn't hear if there was more. It sounded like a warning, but she didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was her own.

The soles of her feet burned. It had to be imaginary pains; the interrogation drugs had time to work through her body by now, but there was no going back to sleep.

She ventured out, the floor blessedly cool against her bare feet, and found her way to the lounge. The ramp was up, and she could hear Han's voice outside once or twice as she moved through the ship, talking with someone about hyperdrive systems. The ship's interior lights were set to low, but it was bright enough to see Luke sitting at the holochess table.

His feet were up on the bench, his neck craned upward so his eyes were directed at the ceiling.

He noticed her. "Did I wake you?"

She felt groggy, a little disembodied as the voice still rang in her ears. "No." She shook her head. "I don't think so. Unless- did you call my name?"

Luke moved his head from side to side, and the hair against the metal plating rose up with static electricity. "I was thinking about you," he said, and grinned ruefully, "but I don't think that loud." He moved his feet so she could sit.

"Chewie, lower the deck plate," Han ordered from outside.

"Han's working," Luke said.

"At this time of night?" Leia said.

"Night shift has loads for him. They want everything ready for tomorrow."

The upcoming evacuation silenced them both. They listened for a time at the noises outside the ramp. There were slaps of heavy things dropped, one word shouts, Chewie growling.

"Only been two nights here," Luke said finally. "Feels like forever."

"It does," Leia agreed, but she wondered if she would remember these days of inaction years from now.

"Do you drink?" Luke asked.

"For occasions," Leia answered. She was becoming used to his directionless talk. "On occasion. With dinner. Do you?"

"Well," he looked wryly at a glass in front of him on the table, "I started. Han's got some stuff. Want some?"

"Sure." After Luke had served her and resumed his seat, she said, "You shouldn't have much. You're flying?"

Luke nodded as he swallowed. "Been nursing this one. Wedge warned me."

"How is he?"

Luke's voice was high and light. "Good." He was lying probably.

Leia took a sip. It wasn't like the wines Alderaan had produced. A deep gold, and she expected it to be syrupy thick, but it wasn't. Rough on her throat, but followed with a sweetness. "Are you good?"

Luke shrugged. "I guess. Yeah." He laughed once, bitterly. "Think that counselor ruined me."

Leia jerked her head up, alarmed. "Why do you say that?"

"She was asking about things. Aspects, I think she called them. If I have nightmares, or can't sleep, or startle at noises." Luke drank. "And here I am, can't sleep."

"It's just this one night," Leia soothed.

"Yeah."

"Will you tell her?"

"No. Wedge had a nightmare. That's why I'm here. He didn't want me to stay. Not going to tell her that, either."

Leia almost shared with Luke about the voice, about her mother, but it seemed he wasn't really sleepless; the issue was Wedge's nightmare.

From outside they heard Han say, merry and awake, "If I added up all the light years I traveled..." and laughter followed before he'd even finished.

"Han doesn't know about my aunt and uncle," Luke said.

Again, Leia's head jerked up. "He doesn't?"

"He might now, but not from me. That was _Before_ Death Star. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't know him. And After Death Star, I told any one I met, and I already met him, so he missed it." He laughed that bitter laugh once again.

"Part of the debriefing," Leia said.

"Ben knew."

"I'm sure he was supportive," Leia murmured.

"I don't know," Luke took a sip and swirled it in his cheek a long time. "He kept me busy on the ship. Started lightsaber training."

"On the ship?"

"Yeah. Han has this remote targeting thing." Luke shrugged. "Guess he practices while in hyper. I suppose a smuggler's got to stay sharp."

"Busy so you wouldn't dwell," Leia suggested.

Luke nodded. "I thought that, too. But I think... he was relieved to get off Tatooine. Like a chapter closed. They were dead, he got me, and he could leave."

Leia was interested. "You think he had his own agenda?"

Luke was still nodding. "He was trying to get me away before I knew they'd been killed. And once offplanet, he started right in with the lessons, like it was an important hurry."

Leia watched Luke study the liquid in his glass. "Luke, are you troubled?"

He took a deep breath. "So many questions, you know?"

"Yes."

"You, too." Luke slid his glass back and forth on the table's surface. "Ben felt Alderaan, you know, when it happened. I thought he was about to faint. He said he heard a million voices-" Luke broke off. "I'm not sure that helps."

Leia's lips twitched wryly. "It doesn't."

"Want to hear something else? I asked Dodonna if I could go home-"

"Go home?" Leia interrupted, unable to hide her disappointment and envy.

"For the Darklighters," Luke said. "I want to let them know about Biggs. Make it right for them."

"Oh," Leia relaxed a little and took a sip. "That's very kind of you." She was sure she knew the answer, but she asked anyway. "What did General Dodonna say?"

"'No'," Luke kept his lips rounded, though the word was clipped. Leia couldn't help but smile a little at him. "He said leave is for family. The Darklighters are like family, though; Biggs and me-" he flipped a palm. "And furlough isn't earned until after a year, if I live that long."

"You think you won't either?"

"We're closer to death than we are to life, don't you think?" Luke said, his eyes hangdog. "That's beside the point. He said-"

"What are you two doing?" Han entered the lounge, peeling off a pair of gloves and tucking a portion into his belt. He surveyed the scene before him.

Luke raised his glass. "Having a drink."

"Well, don't just sit there," Han ordered. "Pour me one, too. Move over, sweetheart." He was partially seated before Leia had a chance to scurry away, and she had to tug her gown away from under Han's leg.

"Don't sit on me," she groused, her cheeks warm. Had he called her that before? She should say something, speak up. But he had come back, and given her berth. He could be long gone, or if he was sticking around for a charter he could treat Luke and Leia as delivered cargo and hang out with the pilots, making space talk. But he didn't. Instead he practically sat on her.

"Here you go, Han." Luke slid a glass over to him.

Both Leia and Luke watched Han take a deep drink and swallow with satisfaction.

"Aren't you flying tomorrow?" Luke said.

"Who says I can't enjoy a drink or three before lifting off?" Han demanded.

"I guess you say."

"Finish about General Dodonna, Luke," Leia reminded Luke of their previous conversation.

"Oh, yeah. He said I can't go, except with the Alliance, because they can keep me safe. Apparently, Darth Vader learned my name."

Again, Leia felt that odd mix of envy and disappointment. "How?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know." Luke shrugged. "They put two and two together, I guess. From tracking the droids on Tatooine. Any moisture farmer could tell a trooper the names of those living in the Lars homestead. I sure hope the Darklighters are okay."

Han frowned. "I thought your name was Skywalker."

"It is. I lived with my aunt and uncle." Luke slid his eyes to Leia meaningfully. "And maybe they got a school picture, and matched it to the footage from the Death Star security cameras."

Han poured himself another drink. "Just shows the Empire can navigate bureaucracy better than it can shoot a target."

Luke grunted appreciatively.

"You know, there's something you can do for the Darklighters," Leia said. "There's a department of personal effects here. The droids have an inventory catalog. You can add something to your friend's."

"Add what?"

"Like a letter. Whatever you wanted them to know in person, you can write it down and it will be sent with his belongings."

"Oh," Luke said eagerly. "That's an idea! I think I will."

"If there's time," Leia added. "They had a good deal packed already."

"You can make the droids undo it," Han said. "Droids don't complain. A human would, but not a droid."

"3PO would," Luke and Leia said together.

"Write a letter to Darth Vader while you're at it," Han half-joked.

Luke smiled. "Leave it where he can find it after we're gone."

"No," Leia said. "Put it on the suck sand."

"And say what?" Luke pondered. "'Dear Lord Vader. You may be congratulating yourself that you have learned my name. But the whole galaxy has congratulated me for being Red Five.'"

"That pretty much is true," Leia allowed graciously. "The Empire has got to be unnerved."

"Palpatine's spinning in his hover ball," Han said.

"What hover ball?" Luke asked. "I never heard anything about a hover ball."

"How he gets around," Han said. "One of those ridiculous stories."

"It's not true? We don't hear anything in the Outer Rim."

"It's not true." Han turned to Leia, appraising her up and down. "Your Heightness, you want to sleep in something other than that dress?"

"Who said I'm sleeping in this dress?" Leia retorted. It felt good- it felt familiar, to have a swift response.

"Oh," Han straightened against the bunk, trying to hide a smile, "You didn't have to dress on our account, then."

"Move," Leia ordered him. "I'm going back to the bunk."

"Me, too," Luke said. "I want to get moving and win this war, but I am glad for the couple of days here with you guys. It's been helping me." He shook his head good-humoredly. "Write a letter to Vader," he simpered. "I don't know if you feel the same, Leia, but... it... not normalizes things, but it does make it feel... manageable. Biggs would do that, too."

Luke turned to Han. "Han, I don't know if you knew. The Empire killed my aunt and uncle. Over the droids."

"Yeah. I heard."

"I wanted you to know it from me. G'night, Leia. G'night, Han."

"'Night, kid."

"Goodnight, Luke."


	11. Despair, II

Despair, II

Orange, and black and white. Gray mandibles, like a beetle's, or wings that fold up and down. Leia is dry. She hasn't shed a tear since. Not since. At night her father sits in his chair and her mother fake snarls for the camera and she can take them further, out of the palace; into the garden, strolling in perfect golden sunlight. There are always maidens who follow but Leia dismisses them, because...

Because she should have sent them away sooner.

But she can't think of that, nor of anyone who lived in the palace with them just because it was their job.

And she's been... able. During the day she doesn't see any faces. She has Luke, and the war, just the small part they'll let her wage after the Death Star, and she has listened to Mon Mothma declare war over and over again, and she counts the planetary systems that have left the Empire. She went once to the _Falcon_ to use the medscan because... because the feelings went away, the soreness, and she-

She has the Captain too, whose eyes are on her and dark, and after he lets her use the medscan she finds a reason to return to the hangar and help inventory the freight he'll be carrying. He's private and Dodonna won't spare a Supervisor of Lade.

And then comes the moment the bays are full and closed, and Luke is wearing the flight suit and she tells herself _don't cry, don't cry_ because they want to separate them. Luke is willing and Han shrugs like it's normal and she doesn't quite understand herself why her heart is breaking, only that it is.


	12. Resistance, I

"Don't you have some Princess work to do?"

Han meant nothing by it, Leia noted; his question didn't contain the underlying belligerence or self-defense she'd noticed on the Death Star. He was simply curious why Princess Leia of Alderaan was stopping crates from being loaded onto a smuggling freighter like the _Falcon_, asking for the lid to be removed, counting the contents and making sure the amounts corresponded with what was marked on the inventory screen displayed on the crate.

He wasn't so meticulous. He checked the screen, and marked off on his own data board that it was stowed, but he didn't check the contents to make sure the inventory was correct.

"I'm curious as to your idea of Princess work," Leia responded dryly, in the same tone she would use in the Senate to put someone in their place.

_Princess work_, she thought. If it were today, which it was, but not the same today as it should have been... she took a big breath. The Senate would still be in session. Leia would wake in the family apartment on Coruscant, and she would check her schedule with the two maidens who helped her coordinate the day.

She had two maidens, she thought suddenly. Two. On Alderaan she'd have twelve, but some had curious duties, like linens. They must have been bored, she thought now.

She shook her head, getting back to the day. Two maidens was not excessive. One managed the social calendar and the other her business calendar. She would eat, dress, go to the chambers. Mon Mothma's chair would be empty, but she might send a vote in by proxy. Then it was meetings. Listen to pleas by offworld Alderaani. She remembered meeting the parents of a young student at the University of Coruscant. He had disappeared. The parents felt it had something to do with his recent anti-Imperial rhetoric; the father had warned him. "You can't call attention to the Empire without calling attention to yourself," the father told his son. They asked Leia to intercede because they felt that the authorities weren't doing enough, they weren't serious enough.

Their hands were so expressive, she remembered. The way they held them out, imploring her, asking her to take their weight of worry, of fear. They had traveled all the way from Alderaan...

"'There once was a queen," Han recited, "and the last time she was seen, she was in her tower, counting her power. But the king stole her ring; in a fury she was led, and so she chopped off his head.' Like that," Han finished.

"What even is that?" Leia shook her head bemusedly. "There's no mention of a princess. And the cadence is wrong." He had distracted her from the count, and then she had realized the today that should be today would be different anyway, because she was on that diplomatic tour, and she would be heading back to Alderaan...

"It's a... I don't know," Han said. "Kids say it on Corellia. They hold hands and turn in a circle, and when the king loses his head they fall."

"Monarchs don't-" she stopped, because she was going to say _behave like that where I'm from_, and she couldn't get the words out. All of a sudden, she had no more 'where she was from'; it was an odd feeling, punishing. The place was gone, and it seemed so also were the things she couldn't touch?

It was like a curse; it kept her from talking. Things taken, or prevented. Someone- who, she had no idea, for how could a planet judge someone; the goddesses perhaps- had sentenced her.

"But then the Corellian monarchical period was pretty volatile," Han said, blithely conversational.

Leia managed to say, "There's a difference between rule and power." This crate held fifty pair snow boots. She had already checked in two others like it.

"I suppose." Han had lost interest. "What do you do for this outfit anyway?"

She could answer this; it was permitted. Even Alderaan would approve. If she couldn't, it was because she didn't quite know yet herself. "My role is about to change substantially."

Han snorted. "That goes unsaid." He saw through her deliberate vagueness. "Soon as they give you one, right? You do that thing Luke was talking about? You don't get a duty 'til you're cleared?"

Leia frowned. Luke apparently was talkative. "The CBA. I haven't yet. It's for a return to duty. I've only just enlisted. General Dodonna indicated he just thought it would be helpful, but he didn't say it was mandatory."

Han's eyes were knowing. "It is if they gave it to you. That's how the military works in my experience. They got no flexibility."

Leia gestured for a crate to be opened. "We'll see," she said. The stack of boots was the same height as in the other crates, so she considered it counted. The repulsor cart moved past her.

Han was reading the inventory screen of his own crate. "Gloves, glove liners, snow goggles." He pretended to shudder. "Somplace cold. Don't envy those guys." He waved the cart by. "We didn't have those, when I was in."

Leia looked at him. "Gloves?" she said.

He was looking at her still, and she held his gaze in response. Two conversations were going on. One from his mouth, the second from his eyes. "The Cb thing."

"In the Imperial Navy?" Despite herself, she was interested. She valued the health of the troops; she did, she would insist to... to anyone, even this outlaw freighter captain who was looking at her skeptically. She couldn't explain why she hadn't gotten hers done yet. She was... pulled, in a way, in two directions, making her stand still. A part of her was reluctant and another dismissed it. She was either a quivering, tiny being or she was above it all.

Yet this issue was something her father made sure was addressed by the Alliance. He had been affected by the Clone Wars, she knew. He had told her about the Clone troops, about their unexpected emotionality, and he never forgot what he saw at the Jedi Temple when the Order came under attack. That's why she had told Luke General Kenobi must have been heartbroken, hiding all those years on Tatooine. It was what her father had said.

"Why not, do you suppose?" she asked.

Han shrugged. "The Moffs and Admirals called us 'disposable assets.' Know what we called them?"

Leia smiled slightly, anticipating his answer. "What," she said.

"They came and went as much as us. Pissed Vader off, or the Emperor, and we never saw 'em again. We called 'em Disposable Asses."

"Clever bunch of pilots," Leia was amused. "Do you think there'd have been a beneficial need for something like TRAD?"

"If they make you go, then it's not a weakness," he said. "Duty." He walked over to a cart, his stride loose and limber.

It wasn't an answer to her question. He was talking about something completely different. The individual, not the all. Had he not understood her? "I didn't say I thought it was a weakness," she said. "At all. That's not what I was talking about. I was saying when you were in, if-"

"Sure you were," Han interrupted. "Beneficial need. If you won't ask for help, can't ask, don't know to ask, well, that's why the agency exists."

Leia frowned. The conversation still seemed sideways. Was he talking about himself? Someone he knew?

A cart pulled up in front of her and the driver waited expectantly, used to Leia's thoroughness. She stared unseeing, still trying to work it out. And just who was this 'you', she wondered. With his informal style of speech, it wasn't clear. An unnamed individual? It could be anybody. Even her. Her eyes lifted to him with dawning realization.

It _was_ her. Of all the- his eyes, looking at her like that, and getting her to say that about TRAD, and all the time he'd bugged her about the medscan, and Luke, _Luke!_ talking to him about the CBA. That time at breakfast when they were talking...

She crossed her arms and put her weight on one hip. "When do you see Luke?" she said frostily. The cart driver looked between her and Han. Then he shrugged and put the cart in gear. It lurched forward toward Han.

Han hadn't expected her to cut right to the chase, and she savored her triumph. "Probably before he leaves. I'll bump into him somewhere. I'm told I've got drops at four of the bases." He located the crate number, opened his inventory board and started to check it against the screen. Then he grinned slyly. "But I've got his comm."

"Very good, Captain," she said crisply. "From now on you two oafs can talk _to_ me, not about me. Is that clear?"

Leia stomped off, feeling like she'd won and lost at the same time, knowing she was going to get the CBA done, angry with them, angry with herself, angry at whoever would do it, angry with the whole damn Alliance.

"Can I at least tell him that, Your Worship?" Han shouted at her back, fun in his voice, but she didn't turn around.


	13. Observations, V

Observations, V

Dr. Renzatl was familiar with Princess Leia Organa; everyone was. Galaxy-wide there was a queer fascination with royalty, and the Princess of Alderaan was even more noteworthy because she had been elected to the Imperial Senate at such a young age.

Their paths hadn't crossed earlier. She'd glimpsed the Princess upon her landing, urgent and tense, then again just before the Medal ceremony, regal and radiant.

The woman before her now struck her as small. And young.

She still wore the stained gown in which she had arrived, which was a surprise. Her enlistment forms were stowed with the rest of the contents of Dr. Renzatl's office, now aboard a transport; a uniform should have been distributed to her. Luke Skywalker wore one, she recalled.

It didn't seem prudent to make the Princess wait for a formal appointment to administer the CBA. The Princess was composed, her facial features carefully arranged like a mask, but underneath Dr. Renzatl sensed flurries of desperate thought.

"The evacuation is moving faster than I am," the Princess had offered in explanation when Dr. Renzatl commented on the timing of their meeting. There was less than an hour before the doctor would board her transport. The Princess probably thought she was not revealing anything by her statement; indeed, she struck the doctor as careful and deliberate.

But Dr. Renzatl thought it was probably the slowest evacuation in military history.

Transcript, Patient 20326

Princess Leia was not enthused about the assessment process, but she accepted its terms within the protocol of service. I would qualify her as resistant, a not uncommon attitude toward the beginning of therapy, especially when it is not initiated by oneself. I appreciated that she did not attempt to pull rank on me by asking General Dodonna to release her from it based on who she was, though I believe the thought did cross her mind.

She also volunteered a previous personal history with loss as evidence that she has the experience to cope and no need for TRAD. Transcript follows.

Princess Leia: My mother was Queen Breha. And when I was twelve, she died, of an illness. And the planet lost its queen.

Dr. Renzatl: And the Princess lost her mother. It must have been difficult, sharing your mother with the planet.

Princess Leia: It was... meaningful. I say that now, though then I thought my heart would break.

Dr. Renzatl: How did Alderaan mourn her queen?

Princess Leia: The people left cards and flowers at the gate. At night, houses were lit by candles. For a month. And one burns the whole time. My father took care of ours. A maiden would normally be tasked with that, but he did that, for my mother. I would watch him gather the wax to rebuild the candle, and he would tell me stories of her.

I remember my mother, my life with her. I remember her passing. I can think of the two with the same love. It's part of life.

Transcript ends.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

The death of Princess Leia's mother was a powerful formative moment in a young life, as any death should be for a child. She has assimilated that loss successfully.

Her understanding of life and it's biological nature reminded me of how Luke Skywalker described it in terms of the Force, and for a twelve year old, that is remarkably mature. However, Princess Leia had many coping tools to help her overcome her loss. She had her father, whose love of family extended from his dead wife to his young daughter. There are the maidens, who obviously loved and respected their queen. There was the entire populace of Alderaan, who were not afraid to express their grief.

They are all gone now, and all at once. The Princess is floundering to find new ways to cope. Where once grief was shared and expressed, she is silenced and forced to internalize it.

Our first conversation was informal, or at least the setting was. I explained what a CBA was and how the department worked. She asked many questions, and even expressed a curiosity about the acknowledgement of trauma recovery in the military and its historical application. We discussed the dissolution of TRAD units in the Republic Army after the Clone Wars began.

Most whom we see have little interest in TRAD. Our work is often one-sided. Clients are self-absorbed or hostile. Too, therapists discourage the exchanging of personal details. I have to admit I enjoyed talking about the origin of TRAD with the Princess.

Because of her personal hesitancy, I undertook to outline- and prepare her for future sessions- what I identify as situations where she might have experienced trauma. 1) Her imprisonment and interrogation aboard the Death Star. 2) The personal grief caused by the brutal murder, through the destruction of her home planet Alderaan, of family and friends. 3) The same destruction as it relates to her being the Princess of Alderaan.

Princess Leia did not report any behavioral aspects such as sleeplessness, loss of appetite, inability to concentrate, etc. She did not wish to talk about any of the above mentioned traumas, but did bring up an issue she didn't mind discussing, namely her rescue, as it was "significant." When I asked why she would include her rescue among her losses, she looked taken aback. "That's true," she said. Then she stated "it wasn't supposed to happen." Transcript follows.

Dr. Renzatl: What do you mean, not supposed to happen?

Princess Leia: Before I was arrested, I had sent the Death Star plans, downloaded into a droid, to Tatooine to find someone who could finish the mission for me and bring the plans to Alderaan.

Dr. Renzatl: And you would have...

Princess Leia: I was braced for execution.

Dr. Renzatl: How did you react when you learned of the rescue attempt?

Princess Leia: I suppose... I was confused.

Dr. Renzatl: What confused you?

Princess Leia: I couldn't understand what General Kenobi was doing, what was going through his mind. The mission was paramount. Paramount. And my purpose was served. So, to waste time on a rescue...

Dr. Renzatl: You thought it was unnecessary?

Princess Leia: Something like that.

Dr. Renzatl: When you say your purpose was served, did you believe there was nothing else you could offer the Alliance in the future?

Princess Leia: (frowning) I- I'm not sure. I meant the mission.

Dr. Renzatl: Perhaps the General felt you could still be a part of the mission. Perhaps he merely did not want to see you die at the hands of the Empire. Would that be so wrong?

Princess Leia: I think I must have been in... in shock. Don't you? Alderaan had been- they had already used the Death Star. I was in my cell, and I had failed. That was all I knew. And then, when Luke came in, Luke Skywalker, I believe you know him? (Dr. Renzatl nods)- If you had seen him when he came in my cell-

Dr. Renzatl: What was he like?

Princess Leia (smiling slightly): He was completely out of his element. I thought I might be hallucinating. He came in, all... earnest and warm. His disguise didn't fit well. It was so at odds to everything I had known on the Death Star. He mentioned that he was there with the same droid I had dispatched, and with the General to whom I had appealed for help.

Dr. Renzatl: I see.

Princess Leia: I was confused because it was totally illogical for them to be there. It seemed out of character for General Kenobi. That he would bring the droid and the plans back from where they were stolen, aboard the Death Star, and endeavor to rescue me, who no longer...

I didn't think, at the time, about how- That possibly they weren't able to reach Alderaan.

Dr. Renzatl: Because of the Death Star.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: So it's possible they were on brought on board the same as you, as prisoners.

Princess Leia: Only the ship was captured. They managed to evade actual custody. I didn't know any of this, of course. Things moved fast once Luke came in. It seemed we were always running. We didn't have time to talk.

Dr. Renzatl: That's what you mean, about not supposed to happen. They were also on the Death Star, but not for your rescue. For their own possible interrogation and execution.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: Does it still confuse you?

Princess Leia: Well, in hindsight, no. Now that I know what happened. But it surprises me still.

Dr. Renzatl: How?

Princess Leia: That we succeeded. That... two men and a Wookiee ... (long silence)

Dr. Renzatl: Princess Leia?

Princess Leia: Do you know all I'm bringing on the transport? My Death Star dress. (She lifts a fold of fabric over her thigh and lets it drop). I came away with two men, a Wookiee, and a dress. The droids belong to Luke now.

Dr. Renzatl: I heard about the General's death.

Princess Leia: Yes. Did Luke tell you? Yes, he took it hard.

Dr. Renzatl: And you came away with two men and a Wookiee. The plans, too. Your mission was back on track.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: That must have been gratifying.

Princess Leia: Yes. Before, it was a mission. Then it was all that mattered.

Dr. Renzatl: And Luke Skywalker was out of his element. Were the others?

Princess Leia: In a way. Luke (smiles slightly again) adapted quickly. They weren't with the Rebellion, none of them. Not even General Kenobi. So in that respect, they were out of... place. But- I would say that running for their lives was not a new experience for the other two.

Dr. Renzatl: Interesting. Tell me about them.

Princess Leia: I can't, except we were all running for our lives. It was a shared situation. We all had the same goal.

Dr. Renzatl: How were you? Were you able to run? Alderaan was already destroyed, and you had already undergone interrogation. I imagine you may have had difficulties functioning. You were probably injured, needed their help.

Princess Leia: No.

Dr. Renzatl: (after a silence) You mentioned a shared situation, and the same goal. It sounds as if the four of you- the Wookiee, and the two men and yourself- had to rely on each other. That you all formed a team.

Princess Leia: (nodding) We wanted to get out of there. (Turns thoughtful) I don't know much about the Wookiee. His name is Chewbacca. Captain Solo calls him Chewie. I don't know what he is to Captain Solo. Copilot, at the least. He seems protective of the captain. But also, he sounds mouthy.

Dr. Renzatl: Mouthy?

Princess Leia: Yes. I don't understand his language. He wasn't very comfortable on the Death Star. That was evident. But, he might offer a different viewpoint than what the captain wants to hear. When you mention a team ... Chewie likes me and Luke. That I can tell.

Dr. Renzatl: And the men? Do you still feel that teamwork, as if a sense of belonging developed because of this shared experience, what you all had been through together?

Princess Leia: You say belonging... Luke is the younger. Shorter. Blonder. He's sweet, and innocent. Han-

Dr. Renzatl: (unable to resist) Older? Taller?

Princess Leia: (smiling). Darker. (stops speaking)

Dr. Renzatl: Yes?

Princess Leia: I don't belong to them.

Dr. Renzatl: (after a long silence) At the risk of betraying a confidence, Luke holds you in very high regard.

Princess Leia: Luke as much as told me. He felt protective of me. He thought I was vulnerable.

Dr. Renzatl: I can see that irritates you.

Princess Leia: It does. He was- not more vulnerable, but less capable than I was. The Death Star- (presses her lips together). I had a purpose there.

Dr. Renzatl: You were ready to die.

Princess Leia: If it came to that. But not Luke. He and Han flew too close to it; they got sucked in on the tractor beam.

Dr. Renzatl: They blundered upon it.

Princess Leia: Exactly! And for him to think I'm like some little sister that needs watching over...

Dr. Renzatl: Is the other, Han, vulnerable too?

Princess Leia: It would kill him if he had to admit it.

Dr. Renzatl: So he's tough, like you.

Princess Leia: Yes, like me. I can just hear him. Your Worship, Your Heightness, Princess Organizer. If there's anyone else out there thinking I'm vulnerable-

Dr. Renzatl: He makes fun of you?

Leia: He's not really making fun of me-

Dr. Renzatl: He's mocking your title. Isn't- wasn't that punishable by fine on Alderaan?

Princess Leia: (involuntarily smiles). He's letting me know he doesn't see me as vulnerable.

Dr. Renzatl: Did the Death Star see you as vulnerable?

Princess Leia: (pales). No. Not in the least. I was very capable. I did not break under interrogation.

Dr. Renzatl: How did that make you feel?

Princess Leia: Strong. I knew I was the right person to be there. I felt strong.

Dr. Renzatl: Even when the men and Wookiee came?

Princess Leia: Yes. They were trapped, cornered, and it was me that found a way out for us.

Dr. Renzatl: Does the Alliance view you as capable, or vulnerable?

Princess Leia: I would hope capable.

Dr. Renzatl: But you don't know?

Princess Leia: I don't... (bites her lip). ...I recognize myself on the Death Star, when I think about it. Here, I just... flit about, like a butterfly. But it's because I have no duty yet; I haven't been productive. I'm not used that that.

Dr. Renzatl: Even though you have not been given a duty yet, how do you see yourself as being the most productive to the Alliance?

Princess Leia: Ending the Empire. When the time comes, and we have victory, I hope that they let me push the button that ends it all.

Dr. Renzatl: Is that how war ends? With a push of a button?

Princess Leia: That's... that's how they did it on the Death Star.

Transcript ends.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia is intelligent and thoughtful. Her grasp of self-awareness has been compromised due to the events of her trauma, but I was heartened that our discussion helped her see the defensive barriers she has erected, and that there were moments when she began to peel them carefully back.

Until her internment aboard the Death Star, Princess Leia was- justifiably- a person of great strength and purpose. She saw things in black and white. She is smart enough to know gray exists in between, but it is the decisions one makes, and the subsequent actions that follow, that shade the gray either to black or white.

The Death Star still exists for her, separate from the concept of the Empire. Not as a terrible place of horrific experiences, but as a kind of statement of identity. She needs the Death Star because it affirms what she thought of herself. Complicating matters considerably is the responsibility the Death Star bears to Alderaan. She puts up very strong defensive barriers when she suspects her own psychological bond with the weapon that destroyed her homeworld and killed her family.

Her interpersonal relationships with the two men who assisted in her rescue are also reflected in her perceived roles on the Death Star and here in the Alliance. Luke Skywalker needed her help on the Death Star but he is now the darling of the Alliance. She views him as kind and sympathetic, but is irritated when he shows concern for her, as that of a brother, or equal, which to her is questioning her strength and intelligence.

In contrast, where she should get mixed messages from Han Solo, she doesn't. He resented her strength and ability on the Death Star, perhaps because it undermined his own. His continued abuses of her title are, to her, proof that his assessment has not changed, and this reinforces her own perceptions of herself.

We talked as long as time would allow. We both had to make our transport, and she asked to be allowed enough time to say goodbye to Mr. Skywalker, Captain Solo, and the Wookiee Chewbacca. They are already an integral part of her support structure so I made sure she could do that.

I will make a note that she be allowed to continue to wear what she calls her Death Star dress and not an Alliance uniform.

As we parted, I couldn't help but think back to the conversation I had with Luke Skywalker. Their similar view that death is part of life was striking. I had also asked both how they envision their roles in the Alliance. Mr. Skywalker had alluded to the deaths of his loved ones as leaving him a job. Princess Leia's assertion was that her only job was to help bring about the end of the Empire. It struck me that Mr. Skywalker's vision arose from the ashes of love, and that Princess Leia's hope is grown out of hate.


	14. Resistance, II

_Surprise and happy Thursday! One to chew on today, and a shorter one to follow tomorrow. Thanks to all who are following and commenting. I couldn't do it without you! _

_Onward to the evacuation..._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leia watched Luke stroll through the hangar. He had changed into a pilot's uniform. The orange of the flight suits sometimes blurred one man from the other, but she supposed Luke's suit was newer, so it was brighter. She wondered if he had packed his desert clothing.

It was so odd, seeing him in orange. She glanced quickly at Captain Solo, who was pacing in front of the ramp of his ship. He seemed to have his own kind of uniform, for he was dressed largely the same as the first time she met him. The black spacer's vest was familiar, and Leia rubbed the sleeves of her Death Star gown briskly with her hands.

One of the transports had already left and the place seemed so much emptier. For the first time, Leia thought she understood how large the population of the ancient settlers must have been. Had they died off, little by little, or left? How sad, she reflected, to be among the last.

Luke wasn't walking rapidly, and he kept his eyes on the _Falcon_, his helmet tucked under his arm. He was coming to make his goodbyes. And his body language told her he was reluctant. No jumping and shouting this time, no wild grins. A lot had changed in the past week for both him and for Leia, but they had become a constant to each other. It was hard to leave what little they had gained.

It was true, what Dr. Renzatl had said about the four of them, that, in a way, they belonged together. But- Leia shook an annoyed thought away and watched Han stop his pacing and slowly amble in Luke's direction- maybe it was her fault. Wasn't it she who said _we have no time for sorrows_.

"They trust you to be able to find the new base in that thing, huh?" Han said, jerking a thumb towards the X-Wings when Luke was in earshot. He was almost teasing; maybe he was reluctant too.

Certainly not about Luke's piloting ability. "If he can blow up a battle station, then I'm sure he can fly the X-Wing to the new location," Leia said.

"I don't know," Luke grinned. "I used a targeting computer for that."

Leia wasn't having any false modesty. She did not smile. "You shut it off, remember?"

"After I knew what I was looking at," Luke joked. "I might have to stick my head out the cockpit, shout out "anyone see the Rebellion?"

"That's what nav'puters are for," Leia reminded him, still unsmiling.

Luke gave it up. "R2 will be along, too," he said. "So I'll have company."

"If you call that company," Han snorted.

"I do," Luke stated simply. "C-3PO is on the next transport- is that yours?" he asked Leia.

She shook her head. "No. That one's carrying non-sentients. I'm one of the last."

"I'm _the _last," Han stated. He glanced at his chrono. "One hour fifteen and this place will be empty. That's what Dodonna's paying me for, to be clean up duty. If I rustle up the Empire and they nail me, he'll save a few credits."

"That's why the non-essentials are going first, to test the proverbial waters," Leia said, lifting her sleeve to note the hour on her own chrono. "If the Empire has already gathered out past orbit, he'd rather use tools as bait than soldiers."

"Sure, or all that activity could catch their attention and the last one is when they arrive," Han said dryly. "I'd send sentients off first thing is what I'd do."

"Which is why he's general and you're not," Luke shot back. "How far did you make it with the Empire?"

"Not too far. Lieutenant. It seemed like my next raise would be the rank of dead, so I quit while I was ahead." Han reached out and rubbed at a dark stain on the landing thruster. "Not like I'd ever make Moff," he said, still cynical. "The whole system is bull shit. Palpatine isn't too fond of Corellians."

"It goes deeper than that," Leia said. "He ordered the bombing after the tribute refusal. Didn't the Corellian Senator disappear?"

Han seemed to not care. He shrugged. "I don't know."

"A Moff represented Corellia in the Imperial Senate when I was there," Leia added. "He was appointed. Not elected."

"'Course he was. Moffs eat out of the Emperor's hand. That's how he controls the planet. Corellians aren't too fond of the Emperor, for that matter."

"There are a lot here, I noticed that," Luke said. "Wedge is Corellian. And speaking of him, I better get going. I wanted to say safe skies, and... I'll see you. Right? Hopefully. Is it true we're going different places?"

"It's possible," Leia said. "Coordinates are sent once a ship is out of orbit, so the pilots don't even know. We're breaking off into tiny segments on remote systems. If the Empire manages to find one, we'll still be active elsewhere."

"Declare war and then hide," Han summarized. "Ever play that game when you were a kid? Throw a rock through a window and run away?"

Luke looked doubtful. "That's a game?"

"It's vandalism," Leia said. She eyed Han darkly. "Once again, I'm surprised you made it to adulthood."

"I did, though. Got good aim, too."

"I suppose you spent your childhood jailed."

"Nope," Han was grinning. "I'm also fast."

"Well, " Luke interrupted, "I'll be deployed soon. That's what Wedge is doing while he's grounded. Building up a new squadron, and then we'll probably be sent to patrol a world that seceded. Protect it from retribution from the Empire."

"Gods," Leia said. "You'll have the stress of battle all the time."

"It's patrol," Luke repeated. "The world systems have their own standing navy. From what I understood in Dodonna's briefing, we're to stay just out of system, monitoring."

"Til someone throws a rock," Han said.

"The systems that have something the Empire can lose," Leia clarified. "Economics is a strong factor where they decide to attack. They'll leave the world alone that exports natural resources. One they can enslave, like Kasshyyk..." she trailed off, and looked thoughtfully at Chewbacca, who was double-checking that hatches were sealed before liftoff. Wookiees hailed from Kasshyyk, and she wondered how such a fierce and friendly being wound up a partner of a smuggler instead of an Imperial slave. "That's when the rocks get thrown."

"So," Luke said. He moved awkwardly, the helmet tucked under one arm allowing only the other to circle upward, a one-armed embrace. "Bye, Leia. I got your comm."

She returned his hug, smiling against his neck at the promise of a call. "Please be careful."

"Bye Han." Luke was going to offer just a hand, but he changed his mind as Han lifted his and gave him the same hug.

"See ya, kid."

"Stay away from the Hutt." Luke turned to leave.

"You know I will."

"I know." Luke called over his shoulder with a sad smile.

"I better get ready, too," Leia said quickly as Luke ventured over to bid farewell to Chewie.

Han called loudly after her, causing a tech to turn around and glance between the two, "You got nothing to pack!" But Leia's steps were hasty.

She waited in John Branon's room. It was empty, just a stone chamber. They should know how to look, all of them, but Luke had departed and Han was busy with preflight, and maybe the others weren't looking very hard. Her comm dinged twice, but no voices came down the hallway.

Did that mean something? she wondered. Was she right? Was she scheduled for Dodonna's transport? Had he been informed? She kept checking her chrono. When the rumbling in the sky quieted she swallowed bracingly and went back to the hangar.

The ramp was up. She moved to in front of the _Falcon's_ mandibles where she would be seen and waited calmly with her hands folded in front of her.

The ramp began to open, and soon Chewbacca was following it's slow descent, his body gradually unfolding until he could stand straight. He growled something at her, and Leia imagined he said, "Princess?" or "What are you doing out here?" or simply, "We've been waiting for you."

"I missed my transport," she said as regally as she could. "May I join your flight?"

Chewbacca scanned the whole hangar, sniffing, but then he gestured with his head and she followed him into the cockpit. He said something to Han.

"She did, huh?" Han said without turning around.

Chewbacca answered him. Leia listened closely, but she was unable to even make out breaks in sounds indicating a word.

Han acted like Leia wasn't even in the cockpit. "You may be right about that, pal."

Leia dropped into the navigator seat, listening with a frown as Chewie said something else. A question apparently, for Han answered, "I don't know. Got a suggestion?"

Chewie responded with four staccato hoots.

"Guess we'll take the stink for it, then," Han said.

Leia grew tired staring at the back of Han's head. "That's rude," she said. "Talking in front of me like that."

"What makes you think we're talking 'bout you?" Han said innocently.

"You said she."

Han swept his arm about the cockpit. "I call the _Falcon_ a lady, too."

Leia fumed, reviewing the one-sided conversation in her head to catch Han, but it had been too vague.

Han turned in his seat to look at her. "What are you doing, Princess?" he said with a sigh.

"Flying with you," she said in a clipped voice. "I have no other choice."

Han turned back to the console. "Guess not," he said. "Get cold feet?"

Leia's brows knit. "For what?" she scorned.

"Seein' Vader again."

The answer was completely unexpected. "Of course not," she said. "I fell asleep." She snapped the safety belt across her lap.

Han's head moved in a slow, sarcastic nod. "Sure you did." The ship began to move, ascending at a steep incline, and Leia watched the tree line fall away until it was just a band of green below them.

Chewie and Han worked together, tossing one word to each other signifying the task each was doing. There was no sign of the Empire.

"Everyone is away safe, then," Leia said softly, and no one answered her.

"They send those coordinates?" Han said after a time, and Chewie growled.

Han stood at the nav'puter, and Leia had to turn her knees to the side to make room for him. "We'll see where these take us," he said.

Leia put out her hand. "Wait," she said.

Han glanced down at her fingers curled around his wrist. "Wait for what?"

"For... I have a procurement."

"Look," Han put a hand on the back of his neck. "What I said, about nothing to pack, I was just stating a fact, all right?"

"Are you apologizing, Captain?"

"Maybe."

Leia let him know there were no hard feelings by closing her eyes and huffing out her nose; she had barely noticed the jibe. "I need to go to Dantooine."

"Dantooine? What the hells is on Dantooine?"

"I told you. I need a supply. It's not exactly a military item. Dantooine is close and the Empire is done with it."

"What do you need?"

She warded him off with a shake of her head.

"That's why you bailed on your transport?" Han wanted to know.

"I'm sorry it will make you late."

"No you're not. Chewie, ease up while I pull the coords for Dantooine."

Leia observed while Han grumbled unhappily, but he reset the nav'puter with new coordinates.

"How long?" Leia said.

"Far enough," Han grumbled. "Nine hours in hyper. And there I was, Highness, thinkin' I should be flattered."

"Flattered, Captain?"

"Yeah. You put some effort into making sure you saw me again."

Leia rolled her eyes. "That's not it at all."

"No? You got a better reason?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" He waited a heartbeat. "But you're not sayin'. All right," Han said, leaning against the nav'puter and crossing his arms. "I'll play."

"No, you won't play!" Leia erupted. She wanted to jump out of her seat but the restraints held her down "It's not a game. It's never a game, do you understand? You don't throw and hide! Not me, not my window-" She heard herself like from outside her body; words just popped out, like truths she didn't know she possessed. "-so just fly in your ship and leave, and-"

Abruptly, she stopped. Muscles in her chin started jumping, ones she discovered she had while under the pain of interrogation, but damned if she was going to let some smuggler, some...man... not when she had refuted Darth Vader... and what did he mean, _cold feet?_

Chest heaving, she directed her eyes to the view out the cockpit.

"Can't." Han's voice was unnaturally quiet, in tune with the soft rustle of his clothing as he resumed his seat and strapped in. "Got you on board." Louder, he spoke again. "Punch it, Chewie."

Chewie's answering roar sounded definite, and Leia thought he might have said, "We're with you, Princess," or, "hurrah, destination Dantooine," or "Han, stop being an idiot."


	15. Loss

_In case you are relying on a steady Friday schedule, don't miss Chapter 14, which was a Just Because Thursday Bonus posting. My continued thanks to you all!_

_The Falcon is lifting off from Yavin IV..._

* * *

Resistance, II

They are leaving Yavin IV. Out and up, and it's obvious from the air where the suck sand is.

And it feels like a part of Leia is down there, too, never to be recovered. Her hopes for her father. Her memories of Alderaan. There's no _proof _of it. Just the witnessing. _Is it true? _the refugees will ask.

And she will have to answer, _Yes. _

She doesn't know what else she can tell them. _Yes, we are all phantoms. _

In front of her are Chewie and Han, and quite possibly this would be just another liftoff for them, except she heard Captain Solo mutter in Corellian to his partner, "how am I letting a penniless princess hijack my ship?"

The translation was her own. Leia knew some Corellian, basically travel phrases. She understood 'money-less' and 'royal'. The word was 'take' rather than 'hijack' but that was the beauty of Corellian: it was poetic through mood and context. His complaint tickled her, and she was very curious about the Wookiee's response, for the tone was possibly teasing. She didn't want to reveal that she could comprehend a bit of Corellian, in case Han was in the habit of using his native tongue, so resisted asking.

Their solid presence, even the grumbling, was solace. She was asking a great deal from them, of the Alliance too, but she had decided she needed a recovery day. It can't be because of her talk with Dr. Renzatl, but Leia has noticed a shift in herself. The numbness is wearing off. Yavin IV must have been a holding stage, and now that she is miles above it, things are a bit more clear. She wants to scold General Dodonna for not ensuring she was given a medscan. She would like to remind Darth Vader of his failure- _his_. She would like to show Governor Tarkin just how trusting she is. And she wants Mon Mothma to know she won't just take over Bail's work; it is her work. She wants to tap into this impatience and anger and put it to good use.

Because she knows Alderaan is gone forever. Bubbling out her is a spring of- not memory, but emotions. It is the doctor's fault, Leia thinks. Not the physical memory of sensation, of touch or smell, but how something made her feel. The doctor taught her how to connect place and time and make the memory a feeling. In a way, it is helpful. Alderaan won't let her remember climbing a tree when she was young unless the feeling of the rough bark under her fingers reduces her to a rubble of guilt and shame. _There's__ no more tree, _she must tell whoever gets her memory._ I killed the tree. There is no more friend I am clambering after, no more friend chasing me. _Instead, there is validation of Leia Organa. _I was adventurous. Competitive._

Leia hadn't wanted to remember with the doctor. If she didn't allow it for herself how could she be expected to with Dr. Renzatl? Alderaan didn't want her to. So they talked about recent memories. They talked about the Death Star, starting from the moment Luke entered her cell. Leia is homeless by then, and Alderaan cannot care. But those memories, like Luke removing his helmet, which no stormtrooper would ever do, or standing on the bridge of the Death Star watching the laser, are like holovision. She can report them, but she cannot feel them.

It's no longer clear what she is, who she is. The Princess, the woman. If, indeed, she is either of those. There are glimmers: irritation when Luke apologizes, sly appreciation when Han doesn't. Pride is missing, and contentment disappeared too.

It must have been the rapid movement of the ship over the trees. At first the branches moved and the leaves blew in response to the Falcon's engines, and then individual features seamed together until it was a blur of green and she was looking down upon it. As Yavin IV fell away, she found her thoughts turned to Deso Beach, a place not even on Alderaan. Maybe that's why she could think it.

Deso Beach. The _Falcon _rose through the white clouded atmosphere, and Leia wondered what kind of connection she was supposed to make. The shells? Because they were like the leaves: individual pieces that made up a whole.

It was a working vacation, she remembered, and they went to the beach. But the weather was- her mother made a funny comment, about how they forgot to put in an order for the weather- the Desoii were shocked at how cold, windy and wet the weather treated the royal family of Alderaan. The beach was deserted. Because of the weather but also, Leia suspected, it was closed because a Princess was scheduled to take a swim.

She was a child. About the age of seven? The year isn't clear, but Leia didn't usually think in terms of age but in times of when her mother was feeling good. Despite the cold and the wind, the family still went to the beach because it had been scheduled. Silly, Leia thought now, the rigidity of schedules. Little Leia had taken off her shoes and hitched up her beach pants.

She loved the beach pants. It was a Desoii beach fashion. Loose fitting, snug at the ankles, soft and ironically not water resistant. She continued to wear them on Alderaan when they got back because they were so much better than the sleep gowns the maidens set-

Leia returned to her memory. Her feet were bare, on a shore. Water rushed over them. It was cold, and it made her take in her breath a little at the shock. The water bubbled and swirled. Small pieces of shell, smoothed by the action of water over time, raked over her toes.

When the water receded the sand sparkled in the scattered sunlight. She could wiggle her toes, feeling light.

Once in a while it rushed in hard and fast; swirling, tiny eddies; sand scraped and covered her feet, and then it left astoundingly fast. She was rooted to the spot but dizzy with the feeling of speed, of being whisked away beyond her control.

She twisted around, and her parents were higher on the beach, sitting on dry sand, which was covered in a light layer of weathered shards, and they waved at her, smiling.

Even then, she had a feeling that moment on Deso Beach was important, but she never could grasp its meaning.

The ship shuddered a bit, and a noise chimed. Leia looked down at her feet, covered in practical shoes.

"You always do that too early," Captain Solo groused at his copilot.

Chewie tittered.

"Well, cut it. I had to replace it last year, remember? You're causing too much wear." The captain looked quickly once over his shoulder at Leia, as if he expected her to say something about the condition of his ship or the quality of the flight.

She didn't participate, still lightyears away but now adding a man and a Wookiee to the beach. Had they ever been? Oh, sure; they had a ship and traveled all the time. But had they _been_, like on vacation, with family?

Why was she remembering Deso Beach? Why did Han remember throwing rocks?

_Rocks can cause damage, _Dr. Renzatl would point out to Captain Solo, and Leia smiled to herself, thinking of his response.

_Why did you turn to look at your parents? _Dr. Renzatl might ask Leia.

Why did I? Leia mused now. Children liked to know their parents were watching. But Leia had been checking on them, to make sure they were still there.

And they would never leave her, not without telling her. Because they loved her and wanted her with them. So why would she need to check?

Because while she was down the shore, standing in water noisy and rushing, capable of carrying her away, and her parents were high on the dune, dry and safe, Leia had a feeling of fate. Deso Beach had tried to tell her. She should have run up the dune, squealing to her parents about how cold the water was, and kneel on the sand, sifting through the shells with her mother and father. Instead, she had turned back to the water, and waded in a little deeper.


	16. Restlessness

She passed the hours in hyperspace walking the circular layout of the _Millennium Falcon._ Round and round she walked, until she had memorized each idiosyncrasy of the ship's interior: the panel that didn't shut completely, the scorch scar of a one-time electrical fire out of another, the faded handwriting on the wall that denoted something important, _red_, about the selection of wires.

She wasn't good company but neither Chewie nor Han complained. She didn't talk to them much. If Han fixed himself a drink he made one for her too and waited for her to pass by, or he might tell her, "grub's on the game table." Chewie sometimes waved and said something, holding up a furry finger. These were her first lessons in Shyriiwook, how to count. She would stop and ask for the number to be repeated, and try hard to pronounce it herself, making the Wookiee laugh.

Sometimes she veered off the path. She could visit the crew quarters; let her dress toss about in the auto valet while she showered and waited for it, wrapped in a towel on a bunk. She could even nap, or sit and watch. There was a lift: "don't go in there," Captain Solo had warned, and the gun turrets. She liked those. The upper one or lower, it didn't matter. They were twins, or mirror images of each other.

The gunner was vulnerable, the dome of unshielded duroglass jutting out past the relatively flat surface of the ship's outer hulls. But the view was... practice, Leia thought. When they came out of hyper and cruised a short while on sublights toward Dantooine's orbit, the amount of silver stars took her breath away, and nearby planets or suns hung suspended like marbles. She could look out and think, _there's __no Alderaan,_ because they weren't in that sector of space, but someday she would be.

She fingered the trigger sticks, lined up a feature of space in the targeting grid. Luke had grown confident in here, bragging to a pilot that shooting Tie fighters was like shooting some creature on Tatooine. But it couldn't be that easy, she mused, spinning in the chair. Maybe he had exhibited his power with the Force before he knew he had it. And Han played the gun turret like a game of billiards. His shots created damage that didn't finish a fighter off; during the battle over Yavin he used the trenches, disabling a fighter enough that the narrow passes of the Death Star and the pilot's panic were his own undoing.

Darth Vader had not panicked, Leia thought, which was too bad. He was also lucky. Lucky to decide to chase after the X-Wings on his own and not be on the Death Star when Luke made the shot. It was curious, why fate decided to spare him. And her. It was more than curious; it was ironic. Painful. Difficult.

While she paced, she thought about General Kenobi, whose presence she could not detect anywhere, and Luke, who had left his desert poncho aboard.

They were all together, in flight, the moment Leia stood on the bridge of the Death Star and watched Alderaan crumble. General Kenobi felt it, she remembered Luke telling her. He had felt the loss of life. She hadn't. Not like that. "A million voices," Luke had mentioned, before falling into an awkward silence.

"If ever you need a last resort," Bail had said to her the first time she acted as intel courier, and handed her a scrap of flimsi.

She was supposed to memorize the name and comm coordinates and dispose of the flimsi. "General Obi Wan Kenobi," she read.

Her father put his hand on her arm and whispered like the conspirators they were, "He is a Jedi."

She'd never heard the name. Not in any of her father's stories, not while sitting through a thousand meetings. If, instead of accepting only the name, she had asked. "Who is he, Pati?" A better question might have been, "How did he survive?" for Palpatine's first act as Emperor was to turn on the Jedi.

And she wondered about the Jedi in hiding, who at some point must have revealed himself to her father. How? When? After Bail Organa became a Rebel leader? _Should you ever need me, I'm on Tatooine in the Dune Sea. _Why wouldn't the Rebellion need him as soon as he offered his help? He was a Jedi! And the Rebellion certainly knew how to hide. They could have ensured Kenobi's safety.

Or had it happened earlier- and her mind made a wide, irrational jump, because she happened to be looking at Luke's poncho- were they two young fathers-

_You too? _one would say to the other. _The Republic falls and we are safeguarded with infants. What will you do with yours? I shall bring the little girl to Alderaan, for we always wanted a daughter..._

_This little one has family on Tatooine. I will bring him there, and then never leave, and I will mourn his father-_

Not fathers, Leia corrected herself. But- it was ridiculous, this baby boom, a crazy coincidence- two young men- _prominent _men, a Senator and a Jedi- in possession of babies. Luke, taken in by his aunt and uncle on Tatooine, where a Jedi happened to be hiding Luke's entire life. His father was a Jedi, probably killed on Coruscant at the Temple, or elsewhere during the Purge.

Bail was on Coruscant. He had gone to the Jedi Temple. Leia knew that tale well. Most likely there had been no bundle of baby there. The Jedi were forbidden families.

"So many questions," Luke had said, and Leia nodded in silent agreement with him now. Why was Luke the son of a Jedi if they were forbidden families? Well, that answer was obvious, but it raised even more questions about the nature of Luke's father. If he shook off his Jedi vows that easily for love, what else would he do?

And where had Bail found _her_? She closed her eyes and tried to recall every conversation, see herself as a tot, asking about herself, but place had never mattered. Not even so much the who; she'd only been interested in the ending because it made her happy. She only wanted to hear from Bail and Breha they had chosen her to love. _And so you came to be our daughter. _

The odd similarities she and Luke shared: Luke, with no mention of his mother, and Leia, whose paternity had even less detail; both of the same age, now in the same place, brought together by the Death Star, which orphaned them again. And poor General Kenobi, emerged from hiding, "relieved", Luke had described him, only to be killed what probably felt like moments later by Darth Vader. She felt pity for him.

But he also left behind a mystery; his death ripped the lid off a sepulcher, secrets he buried long ago. Now the stench wafted upwards but the grave's contents were empty. And following the pity, like an aftertaste, was a bit of resentment. _What did you know, Obi Wan Kenobi, and why did you not tell anyone? Why did you not do something about it sooner if you could have, and it seems you could have._ Leia wondered about the connection between Obi Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa, a once casual acquaintance a secret made tighter over the years.

Whatever the secret was, Bail Organa had kept it from her.

And that hurt. Now that he was gone, the secret probably didn't matter anymore, which meant he could have told her.

The thoughts bothered her. They went round and round, and they never reached a conclusion. She wanted to be only sad and lonely, and she couldn't, because she kept asking _why_.


	17. Repentance, I

Repentance, I

Dantooine is lovely. Leia is filled with apology, and asked for forgiveness.

She wished she could have brought Luke. He had described his part of Tatooine as isolated homesteads, a sea of golden sand. On Dantooine it is the same, only the sea is fields of tall yellow grain, blowing under the will of the wind.

Most of the farmers here probably didn't know of the Rebel base, and anyway that was long done. They would never know, either, that Leia had named the planet to Tarkin while the beautiful shape of Alderaan loomed from the Death Star bridge.

Forgiveness can come because Dantooine is still here.

Han, finally, had quieted. His way of trying to figure out what she needed here was to complain, get a rise out of her. "I don't see the point of visiting the old base if the Empire scoped it out."

"The Alliance abandoned it over a year ago. There is nothing there for the Empire or anyone to find. Including me," she told Han.

He pulled up a topographical holo of the planet. "I don't want to hike around all these hills, Your Religion, if we're landing far from where you need to be."

"We won't, Captain. We'll dock in the port city."

Next he researched port city code ordinances once they entered the system, which amused her, and when his eyes narrowed at her she averted her gaze.

"Prohibited weapons zone," he read off. "How're Chewie and me going to watch for you when you're off playing war games?"

"I'm not playing war games."

"Well, I'm going anyway, and you can't tell me no."

"You may accompany me," she permitted him, and had to smile when he made a face at her imperiousness.

She hadn't quite forgiven him for that remark about Darth Vader, but she had to admit he was consistent. And she didn't view him as disrespectful, as others did. He wasn't careful with her, as others were. He was brazen and bold, the only one, and he did something to her. Made her sharpen her claws, hone her tongue, or put a gleam in her eyes. Funny, how someone deliberately trying to tip her world on its end made her feel alive.

But Han was the only one who realized her world already _was_ turned upside down, and this was his method to right her. All the time, she was flailing for balance while everyone else stood by and watched, sympathy and pity on their faces. Well, that was no help. Han wasn't the type to hold out his hand and chivalrously offer to assist, and she wasn't the type to accept.

They set out, plain as day. She still wore what she came to call her Death Star gown, and he was in his spacer's clothing, black utility vest and trousers, and pale yellow shirt. He looked taller, thinner without the gun holstered low on his thigh. Younger, too probably, and a little more clean-cut. Regularly handsome, she labeled it, thinking the description would both please and irk him.

The day was glorious, even in the low-storied port city. Bright yellow sunlight and the dry warm air crisped the edges of buildings, lending a clarity of vision.

"What were your first thoughts when you learned the Princess of Alderaan was on the Death Star?" she asked him as they walked.

"Luke said you were rich," he said.

"That was Luke thinking."

"True." Two steps later he added, "That I flew through the remains of your planet."

She nodded, and decided that no matter what- if he left, if he got killed, if they never talked again- she would always remember that answer as one of the kindest she had ever received.

The general supply store had some. Not quite to the specifications she preferred- the candles had to burn a standard month- but this was the Outer Rim, and she wouldn't do much better. But there were only nine in the box on the shelf that used to hold twelve.

"_That's_ what we came for?" Han sputtered in disbelief. "Why didn't you say so? I got one on the _Falcon._ I think."

She shook her head, teeth on her lip. "How many weren't there at The Time do you think?"

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "Name any figure you could be right."

She switched to a nod. "There's only nine here. I know there's more than nine." Leia was disappointed. In the number, in herself. What was she thinking? That an agricultural outpost like Dantooine would carry thousands of candles?

She didn't want to order them through the Alliance. She wanted to provide them herself. But nine... what was she going to do? Visit every store and buy out their stock of candles?

"You're buyin' 'em for the survivors?"

She nodded again, struggling to speak. "Each family should get one. The flickering light symbolizes the passing of a loved one. And Life, I suppose. It burns continuously for thirty days."

"Wait here." Han put his hand on her arm, and her lips parted, and some kind of joy, or relief or need, coursed through her. "I'll find you more."

She never took orders from anyone, but she waited because he said he was going to find more. She scanned the shelves, and had an imaginary conversation with her father.

She picked up a roll of twine, and held it before her. "We might need to make our own wicks," she told her father. "To keep the candles burning. These aren't very big."

"You told Dr. Renzatl about the Month of Flame," he remarked. "And now him."

"Captain Solo," Leia said. She picked up a striker, to make the spark. "I can... I can think around him. I feel... I know I'm alive. That's good, isn't it Pati? Isn't that what you would want for me?"

"And you are remembering us," her father said.

Leia's eyes filled with tears. "Don't say that, Pati. Don't."


	18. Restless, II

Leia regarded Han in the captain's seat from behind. It occurred to her how she was often behind him. In the cockpit of course, but otherwise too. When they walked. It was an interesting detail, but she put it aside.

Han's shoulders were broad, his posture straight. It was helpful, to look at him, like his body was a history. Leia felt- she was new, but not in a good way. As if she was the aftermath of something known destroyed. She was the crater. No life inside, just crumbling debris around the rim. Han was still young, but youth was leaving. She only had to wait and soon her own body would map itself out like his.

Han's body told her how he lived. Rough and hungry, scarred and confident. It was evident in the maturity of his physique. Compared to Luke, anyway, who was fresh, like her, and she blushed a little, comparing the yards of fabric she wore as a senator and Luke as a desert farmer, to the bare minimum with which Han covered his own body.

Leia smoothed the fabric over her thighs, aware her thoughts were straying from disasters and craters to physical appeal. Yet, somehow, deep down, it made sense. It made sense if she saw Han as she and Luke were now, only he was past it. He wasn't as raw; the deep cut on his chin had healed. There was nothing fertile in the smoking ruin of a crater, but eventually, life found purchase. The winds deposited sediment, a bird dropped a seed.

Han strapped in, and Chewie woofed at him.

She used his name. "Han."

He froze, and she had his profile, the twist of his lip. He was looking at Chewie with his brows up. "Did I hear something?" he said.

He was being playful, she recognized, in a good mood because half a gross of candles was a huge accomplishment for her, and hardly anything for him. He had room in the hold, for they were small, and they hadn't cost much. He negotiated from the shop owner for a forty percent discount and paid for them himself. So now Leia owed him, though he didn't say anything about repaying him.

This was the first true debt Leia had acquired in her young life. The reward didn't make her indebted to him and didn't count; Luke was the one who created it and the Alliance made little objection. And the rescue, no; Leia did not owe them that either. They undertook that themselves.

And he gloated on the way back to the _Falcon,_ carrying six cartons from a strap in his left hand while the fingers of his right danced at his lower thigh, nervous without his blaster.

Leia only carried two, held square before her with both hands, like the contents were precious. Amazingly, Chewie easily carried the remaining sixty-four bundled together. She followed behind them, watching the rhythm of Han's loose stride, wondering how he could buoy her the same time he irritated her.

She recognized it, but that was all she could do. She couldn't summon admiration, and she tempered her gratitude, for this was for Alderaan, not her. He had got it wrong; he did it for her, to help her help Alderaan, but there was no help for her.

Chewie and Han were running preflight. They were finished with Dantooine, yet Leia wasn't yet ready to return to the Alliance.

"What would happen if someone plugged in the coordinates for Alderaan?" Leia asked from the navigator's seat as the engines hummed loudly below her feet.

Han turned in his seat to look at her, his lips parted warily. The answer was obvious but he wasn't rude. He said slowly, "They would be taken there."

"Is it safe?"

"Safe?" he repeated. "Ain't no reason for the Empire to be there, if that's what-"

"I am aware it's no longer a destination, Captain," Leia snapped. "I was on the bridge of the Death Star when it happened. I mean safe for a ship, like the _Falcon._ You said you flew through the-" she pressed her lips together. "Luke said the ship got jostled around a bit."

"She did," Han agreed. "And you're asking..." his open palm asked her to finish the thought.

"Because. Because... I want to go there."

Han sank back into the seat. He rubbed his face. He looked like he was torn, like he was summoning tact, but that wasn't how it came out. He said, "This isn't the time to get delicate, Princess-"

Chewie cuffed him on the back of the head.

Leia noted it with satisfaction, but she kept her expression even. "I am far from delicate," she said "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"I am, too," Han said. Chewie cuffed him on the back of the head again but he didn't have to; Han actually sounded surprised.

He relaxed a little; he didn't like the idea of her delicate any more than she did, and his face changed. The muscles gathered around his eyes, and they were- kind of luxuriant, she thought, distracted a moment. She had once seen a ceramic art, where molten gold was poured over a still-damp, porous porcelain, and the finished clay seemed to glow from within-

"We carrying any perishables?" Han asked Chewie.

The Wookiee shrugged, but it was Leia who had helped inventory the cargo. "You're not," she said.

"You want to go where Alderaan was," Han clarified.

"I do."

"We're in the Outer Rim," he said.

"I'm aware where we are."

"And that's traveling to the Core... Gonna take some time."

"I have it if you do."

"And the Empire does monitor the space lanes around the Core."

"I'm sure, in your experience, you've learned where to navigate to avoid the Empire," Leia said.

"It's a real crowded area, sweetheart." Han looked at Chewie. "Sometimes you're just lucky. That's where we lost the spice."

"If we're stopped, you're carrying..." Leia sought to remember an item of inventory, "gloves and boots. It will hardly raise suspicions."

"And a princess."

Leia shook her head at him. It was silly to focus on her. "Surely you've had precious cargo before," she said dryly. "If we're boarded obviously I won't be a princess. I can be crew, a slave, your wife, or you can throw me in the smuggling hold."

Chewie added a warning with a growl.

"True," Han said. He looked at Leia. "The Empire'll be watching for YT freighters. Since this one escaped the Death Star." He patted the arm of his seat affectionately.

Chewie rumbled something sly, and Han smiled. "Right, and sent Vader's Tie into a spin."

Somehow, that memory, oddly happy for Han and Chewie, spurred them into action. Han stood at the nav'puter. "Gonna take some math," he said. "Can't use the exact old coordinates, 'cause probably a new gravity well," he muttered to himself, "and some'll be good-sized asteroids by now..."

Leia looked at Chewie, who offered a lengthy explanation, but she didn't understand a word.

"I'll work it out," Han announced, his eyes occupied. He left the cockpit, nodding to himself.

Chewie warbled kindly at Leia, lifting a furry arm after Han, and she got up and followed.

He really did have to do some math, and was already engrossed in it at the engineering station. He had tossed Luke's poncho from the seat onto the holochess table. From the lounge seat, Leia watched him appreciatively. It was a quiet glimpse into the real Han Solo, she thought. A man, a nice man really, somewhat like herself. He wanted to go back too, she guessed. He wasn't being accommodating with her. She couldn't quite say how he was being. Maybe he just wanted to share.

"OK," he announced after a time, not gloating now but still proud of himself. "Got it. Go back and strap in."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Han worked out a route that would have them emerge on what was Alderaan's eastern relation to the Core. Planets within the Core were close to each other, just hours-long travel on sublight engines, and the use of hyperdrive engines in the space lanes was prohibited.

But right now they were days away. Hyperspace was quiet, except for the reassuring hum of the ship engines.

Too quiet. Leia was alone in the cockpit, still strapped in. Han and Chewie went to set up the sensor array so they could hijack communications and jam their own transmissions to remain undetected.

She wished she was free. That was all. Just free.

Not dead, she rushed to be clear to her conscious self. The other part of her, deep down, wanted freedom from... Leia had to look away from the cockpit window to figure it out. Just fly, and do nothing, be nothing. But she couldn't. There was... something; something in her way, blocking her, preventing her. And Han couldn't shoot it away from the gun turrets. She would have to pound it away with her own fists.

_It's me_, she realized.

Dr. Renzatl had asked Leia about difficulties resulting from trauma. It sounded quite clinical. "A body ails easily," Dr. Renzatl had explained. "Not so a mind. Often, the body will act as a signal when the mind needs to heal."

Aspects. Wedge Antilles had nightmares, Luke struggled to sleep. But Leia slept, mostly, dreamless until a voice screamed her awake. And she ate, when someone reminded her to. She didn't disagree with the doctor. If it had been anyone else she would have said, _of course, my gods._ But it wasn't anyone else, it was just her.

It wasn't that she was different. Or better. No, not at all, and she sent a quick apology out to Luke and Wedge, wherever they were. It was... the doctor wanted her to move on, past.

That wasn't true. The doctor was kind. Understanding. She wanted to help. She wanted to talk. Like Luke, just let it out, all of it, the pain, and the sight of it, and the memories, good and bad. Leia would never accuse Luke of suffering less, of loving less, yet that's exactly what she was doing.

Alderaan, and her father, and all those... and the butterfly. It's love, Leia thought. Love is not trauma. She would think of her father, his sad smile- it was always sad, from her earliest memories- and she would not let him go. Nor the sight of her home rising out of the valley when she returned from Coruscant, the hills green and the water sparkling blue. It was better to see that than what she had witnessed on the Death Star. She would love Alderaan and everything in it, on it, forever. She couldn't let it disappear, how clearly she saw her father's smile, how green the valley was, not even how vividly the planet broke apart.

Never. To cope meant to let go, and that meant she had stopped loving.

Abruptly, like a particle of dust distracted her, she flicked her head and then realized she was still strapped in. She pressed the buckle to release the crash webbing.

Han was in the engineering station. He started explaining to her when she appeared, about monitors and shielding, but she wasn't listening, turning instead in a slow circle.

"-from anywhere in the ship-"

"Is this where General Kenobi trained Luke?" she interrupted.

Han glared at her, his mouth still open.

"Luke told me General Kenobi gave him lessons in lightsaber training."

"He waved it around some," Han allowed.

"You have a target remote?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not asking just to make conversation, Captain," she said. His sudden laconic turn was annoying. "Where?"

Han pointed with his eyes. "There."

She locked her gaze on him, and he returned it, waiting. They stood there, looking at each other. Finally, Leia said, "I want to try."

It seemed he was waiting for that. One corner of his mouth went up in a grin. "I ain't got a lightsaber, sweetheart."

"With a blaster." She beckoned with her fingers at the one he had retied at his thigh.

He smiled fully. "I've seen you hit a wall." He moved to a storage hatch and brought her a small gun. "It's a _training_ remote," he emphasized. "Not gonna let you shoot up my ship."

Leia bounced the weapon in her hand. It wasn't real, she decided. It felt hollow. "Did Luke chop up your ship?"

Han laughed. "No. It was set it so Luke was the target. Defense." His tone became mocking, "Supposed to use his feelings."

"It worked though, didn't it," Leia said.

"Well, the remote was winning for a while," Han said. "But yeah, the kid got in a lucky hit."

Leia nodded. "He used the Force." She nodded again. "Luke will be a Jedi."

"Not if he doesn't find someone to help him," Han answered. He returned to the engineering station and turned a dial, then pushed a button. A small orb rose into the air, humming loudly. It hovered, and Leia thought it was regarding her.

"I'm guessin' you're not a sharp shooter," Han said.

Leia gave him a small grin. "There was a lot of wall," she said wryly.

He laughed again. "It's set on stationary target mode."

"What does that mean?"

"It won't fire back. And it won't move. Once you learn to aim properly, you can set it for more challenges. This," he tapped a finger on the small gun in her hand, "doesn't have the firing mechanisms of a real blaster. So it doesn't have the kick, or the weight. Turn it on here," he showed her where the activation latch was and stepped back. "Give it a go."

Leia looked at him, then at the remote, still hovering. "How long will it stay up?"

"Charge lasts a couple of hours."

She nodded, and brought the training blaster up between her two hands, her arms even with her shoulders. She closed one eye, found the remote, then switched which eye she kept open. "How do I aim?"

Han nodded, pleased. "Lesson one. First, your stance. Arms are good. I can't see your legs under all that gown. You don't just stand still. You want to be stable. Keep your knees soft."

She widened her legs, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "With one eye, or both?" she persisted.

"Depends," Han answered. "For targets, you can use one eye. A dominant eye. But that's like a laboratory setting. Useless in real life. In the field, returning fire, adrenaline messes with your body."

"Adrenaline is your body's reponse," Leia countered.

"Whatever. Your eyes dilate. You gotta use both eyes."

Leia aimed, the gun held high and centered in her vision, her elbows almost locked. She pressed the trigger, and watched as a gold beam tracked its way in the direction of the remote, showing her how far off her aim was. She made a noise.

"Don't be mad at it," Han said.

She dismissed him with an absent wave of her arm. "Let me get this," she ordered him. "Finish with your jamming."

"Whatever you say, Your Heightness," Han said, lifting his rear off the edge of the engineering station. She held the gun high again, her eyes frowning in concentration, but asked herself if he had sounded disappointed as his back retreated toward the cockpit.

On the seventh round, she hit the target for the first time. She lowered the gun, feeling a little victorious despite the fact that it was an accident. Then she couldn't remember what she had done that scored a hit. She had to experiment with how she stood, how she positioned the weapon, how she sighted it. On the thirteenth, she finally scored a second hit, and told herself, _one more_, refusing to lower the weapon. Number fourteen hit, as did fifteen, but the sixteenth missed.

She made herself take a break, stretching her fingers and rolling her back downwards, grabbing her ankles and breathing deeply. While she rested she saw herself taking aim. Then she picked up the practice blaster again.

Xxxxxxxxx

Traveling through hyperspace was not down time, Leia learned. The _Falcon's_ crew of two kept busy, working the cockpit in shifts and monitoring equipment everywhere else. She heard Han and Chewie talking about something that wasn't functioning properly, and though Chewie seemed to worry over it more than Han, she decided it couldn't be too important or the Wookiee would smack his captain on the back of his head again.

After a snack- Leia refused to call a ration bar a meal, and gave Chewie her uneaten portion- she unhooked the targeting remote from the charger.

"Playtme again?" Han complained. "We come out of hyper in three hours," he reminded her. "I'll need you to look sharp."

Leia holstered the training blaster and rolled her shoulders. Her hands moved on their own; she was looking at Han; she wanted to ask him something that had been bothering her. "What did you mean when you asked if I'd gotten cold feet?" she finally said.

The change of subject was a surprise to Han. He clearly had no recollection, and Leia cursed herself for asking. One part of her had guessed that he had been merely talking to make noise. He pursed his lips. "Maybe I was suggesting socks," he said.

Leia tsked impatiently. "It was after I missed my transport. You asked if I got cold feet about meeting Vader again."

"Oh," Han remembered fully, nodding largely.

"Did you think I was going to let Vader perform my suicide?"

He looked at her funny. _Looked_ at her, the way she'd come to rely on, eyes smelted gold and porcelain. "Far from it," he said. "Thought you were thinking of taking him out yourself."

"Oh," Leia said. She liked that answer.

"Were you thinkin' that?"

"No. I wasn't thinking of Vader at all, to be honest."

Han nodded his approval. "It'd be a waste of time," he muttered.

"Which?"

"Waste of time 'cause then you could only hit a wall, but not a Sith Lord. Wouldn't want him havin' the honor of killing you." He wagged his finger angrily at her. "Not your idea or his. No."

"I can hit a speck on a wall now," Leia said. She was ready for him. "Watch." To the rhythm of a slow heart beat, Leia fired off six rounds, hitting the remote dead center each one.

Han smiled broadly. "Nice," he said appreciatively. "You're a fast study. You'll make a fine smuggler someday."

She handed him the training blaster with a flourish. "Captain Smuggler, care to show a student how to take a Sith Lord down?"

"Come on," he scoffed. "On stationary?"

Leia nodded. "Since you think I have room for improvement."

"If I used a real blaster," he said, taking the gun from her and holding her gaze, "my ship wouldn't be shot up, and the remote would be broken."

He flipped a switch on the engineering station and the remote began to move, sometimes darting quickly to the side, sometimes dropping low or swerving near the ceiling. He dropped lightly into his stance, and Leia noticed he kept one leg forward, firing almost lazily. In the time it took her to score one hit he found the moving target three times without fail.

He handed her back the gun. "You're ready for mobile targeting."

"Show off," Leia told his back, and somehow she knew there was a smug grin on his face.


	19. Observations, VI

Dr, Renzatl had arrived early. She had tried not to, not _too _early anyway, but there she was standing in the stark reception room of the Minister of War's office with nothing to look at.

There were no holos on the wall, no maps showing the position of the enemy, which Dr. Renzatl thought would be interesting to view, no framed flimsis detailing the Minister's speeches. Just plain walls, no chairs, and an assistant too busy at a desk to make idle conversation with her.

It could be the office was a statement. A reflection of the ideology of the Office. A reminder to visitors to keep their minds focused on the task at hand. They were at the new base now two days, and the Minister's office was unpacked. Dr. Renzatl thought of the shelf in her own office, and all the manuals, propped up by two blackened pieces of brick. The Minister's office was always ready to flee, the doctor realized. Stern practicality was the decor, nothing more.

_There,_ Dr. Renzatl thought as she tried not to pace, _I learned something today._

She was asking herself the last time she had consulted a manual, and if she really needed them of if they were just for show- something else to learn- when the assistant spoke. "You may go in, Major," and he pressed a button on the desk.

Dr. Renzatl turned to face the door. "Thank you," she answered, and any hidden nervousness bloomed into a more rapid heartbeat.

"Albrina," Mon Mothma offered a hand in greeting from the other side of the door. "Thank you for coming. It is good to see you. Please, come in."

Dr. Renzatl followed her in, thinking as she did if the Minister of War had ever used her familiar name before. It had been a long time since they last met. What could the Minister of War want with her now?

She hoped it was nothing like General Dodonna's calm statement that he expected the Empire to blow up the moon they were standing on. She still hadn't gotten over the shock. She'd dreamed of it a few times. It was always different: she might be in her office, at home; once she was her sister moments before the bombs fell, but in each General Dodonna was there to tell her she would die.

The last time she had met with Mon Mothma, it had been called a resistance. TRAD didn't exist, and the group of Senators were still secret enough they didn't yet fear for their lives. Resistance was followed by Rebellion, and now it was the Alliance. Hopefully it would find its last, permanent name, simply the New Republic. Dr. Renzatl had been involved throughout, closing her private practice to help build a unit of the military once thought unnecessary since the Old Republic used clones for it soldiers.

Mon Mothma's trajectory, of course, had risen quite spectacularly, from traitorous Senator to Minister of War. They didn't have much in common, Dr. Renzatl thought, other than the throne Sheev Palpatine built for himself.

Hard to believe his punishment to Corellia was almost twenty years ago now, Dr. Renzatl realized. A year after he delivered his fury upon the planet Dr. Renzatl was still trying to rebound from the horrors of the bombing. The secret resistance she found kept the wounds fresh; each year that passed seemed like the galaxy was forgetting her sister and her nephews. She didn't know if Mon Mothma had suffered a personal hurt. Maybe for a career politician, watching a government die was quite similar. It must have been, for why else would the Senators plot to depose their leader.

Albrina was not a militant nor a strategist. She had no idea how to bring the Empire down; she only knew it was important to do so. Civil war had been planned from the beginning. She understood that. She imagined great battles set in space, the Emperor present on his own ship, leading the charge, inspiring his pilots to die for him.

That's what the kings and queens of Old Corellia had done. Was it the passage of time, the wounds she couldn't see, that had her approve of this method of war? The resistance had no true leader at the forefront, yet revolution traveled the galaxy like on a wind. The escalating numbers of retaliatory deaths made the doctor uncomfortable. The loss of citizen life, just because they lived as Imperials, was bloodthirsty. The Empire might have forgotten her sister; the Rebellion did not. While they celebrated their revenge, Dr. Renzatl thought of the other grieving sisters they had created.

So it must be near twenty years since they last met, Dr. Renzatl brought her thoughts to the present. A long time. The Minister didn't mention the passage of time, or politely inquire how Dr. Renzatl spent the last two decades. She observed that Mon Mothma's hair was now an artificial auburn and her skin was starting to sag. Probably Mon Mothma saw the same in Albrina. But she was very familiar, still radiating that intensity, her voice consciously kept quiet and slow.

Dr. Renzatl took the offered seat. "Thank you, Minister," she said, setting her own tone. She moved her shoulder to the side so a droid could pour a cup of kaf and present it before her.

Mon Mothma added sweetener to her cup and stirred. ""Something has come up," she began. "There has been a development, and I wanted to speak with you about it."

"Of course," Dr. Renzatl replied, her curiosity piqued. She crossed her legs, settling in for a long conversation.

Mon Mothma took a big breath. "We are trying to account for the whereabouts of Princess Leia Organa."

"Princess-" Dr. Renzatl's eyes widened in surprise. She stammered a little, unsure why she was being informed. Mon Mothma appreciated psychology, but she knew it wasn't fortune telling. It couldn't do much to help locate a person.

"I don't see how I can help," Dr. Renzatl said now. "You say she's- she's missing?"

The news was certainly unexpected, though Dr. Renzatl was trying to assess if it actually surprised her.

Mon Mothma nodded curtly. "She was scheduled for the same transport you were. She should have arrived here two days ago, with you."

Dr. Renzatl moved her eyes away from the Minister to think. Was there a quiet accusation in Mon Mothma's voice? "I didn't know that," she said, feeling like she was indirectly being held responsible. "There were still two or three transports in the hangar."

"We know. And we know she did not board. The shuttle delayed its liftoff for a short time to wait for her."

"Yes, I recall there being some activity," Dr. Renzatl murmured. She picked up her cup and sipped, finding she needed to do something with her hands.

"- but General Dodonna insisted on adhering to the schedule, because of the danger of the Empire." The Minister of War looked harsh. "He said that every man was responsible for himself." She let the statement hang in the air.

Dr. Renzatl barely attended the disapproval in the Minister's voice. General Dodonna's reaction was no surprise; he was a consistent man. Instead she was reviewing, in her mind, the last time she saw the Princess up to the moment she boarded her transport. "I saw her," she said, recognizing it wasn't very helpful. "In the hangar."

"That's what I wanted to ask you," Mon Mothma continued. "Do you think it's possible she is still on Yavin?"

Dr. Renzatl set her cup back on the saucer. So that was why she was summoned. Mon Mothma wanted to speculate, and in the doctor's experience, that was usually a waste of time.

"Isn't there a way to check that?" she asked.

"It's not likely a search will be authorized. Not for one person, even if that person is a princess," Mon Mothma said. "Intelligence reports the Empire is now in the sector. As much as I want Princess Leia safe, I would not be such a fool to risk the safety of the AllIance."

"I assume there have been attempts to contact her."

"Of course. They tried to comm her before departure. There was no response. They also searched, briefly; in the time allowed there was no way it was comprehensive."

Dr. Renzatl reached for her cup again. She felt like she was missing something. Maybe she needed to adjust to the difference in tone from meeting Mon Mothma twenty years ago and seeing her again. She asked herself, If it had been just a pilot left behind, would she have been summoned?

No, she was able to answer. This was about the Princess, certainly, but not about her procedural offense. The Minister of War was not conducting this meeting. A concerned woman was, who just happened to be the Minister of War.

Dr. Renzatl uncrossed her legs. "I don't see, Minister, how I-"

"You spoke with her, didn't you?"

"Yes. She initiated it. The Princess introduced herself as I was checking my bag."

"In your professional opinion, Albrina, do you think the Princess would deliberately stay behind?"

"Without any kind of evidence, my professional opinion doesn't mean much, Minister. Even if the Princess granted me permission to share it with you, which she has not." This was a gentle reminder of TRAD's privacy policy. It irked Albrina she had to keep giving one, as if TRAD was gossip during a kaf break.

Mon Mothma stared stonily. Dr. Renzatl was prepared for a reprimand, but when the Minister spoke again, her voice fell to a desperate hush. "She's Bail Organa's little girl, Albrina."

Dr. Renzatl nodded once softly, letting the Minister's emotions come under control. If one threw a stone in suck sand it would land with a _plop_ and disappear. Grief was like a stone in water. It sank, but it's ripples extended outward wider and wider.

Twenty years, she thought again. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had been colleagues a long time.

Time did have a way of freezing. Dr. Renzatl knew it personally. She still saw her little nephews coming down the stairs as if it were yesterday, but they would be grown men by now, if they had been allowed to live and not trapped under the rubble of their home. She knew the tiniest details of her memory, the way their little hands gripped the railing; so clear, a memory decades old, and sometimes it was hard to understand the bombing was real. It must be the same for Mon Mothma.

"I will offer my personal opinion," she said gently, and Mon Mothma lifted her head, the corners of her mouth moist, "the Princess is a lovely young woman."

Mon Mothma nodded, her hands folded tightly on the table. "They were close," she said, as if to herself. "I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder what, Minister?"

"He was devastated when we told him of her capture. I made the call. Bail... It was the last I spoke with him. He said... And the thought entered my mind..." Mon Mothma trailed off, lost in memory. Then she regrouped, her haunted eyes back on Dr. Renzatl. "Did you ever think something, Albrina, and be angry with yourself for thinking it, but the thought won't go away?"

Dr. Renzatl, still gentle, smiled. "Yes."

"I thought, what if he gave up?"

"Gave up?"

"Not then. He was devastated. I knew he was. She was his daughter, and he thought he was receiving word of her death. But he accepted it. He knew, they both knew, of the risk she was inviting. That didn't make it easier for him."

"No."

"I told him, and he... didn't speak. 'Bail, it's about Leia.' He knew, right then. That was all I had to say. I had to ask if the call was still connected. My heart broke for him. And I don't remember everything we said! It frustrates me so. Our last comm. If I had marked it somehow..." The Minister's finger rubbed the saucer rim back and forth.

"The thought I had," she resumed after a while. "It was after Alderaan... I was thinking about Bail, there on the planet. If he was thinking how he was the only one of his family left. His wife, now Leia gone... If he knew, and how much time there was... and I wondered if he... let it happen. If he gave up."

"Minister, it was the largest laser the galaxy has ever seen. It destroyed a planet."

Mon Mothma nodded her head briskly. "I know, I know. But- _could_ he have left. Could he have saved more lives? His own? Or did grief change him, make him... give up." She began to speak more rapidly. "What if he knew she had survived? Been rescued? Would he have acted differently? I just don't know."

Dr. Renzatl's voice was soft. She wanted to reach out and touch the other woman's hand, but she was the Minister of War. "You may never know."

"I suppose not. And now, with Leia... It just seems so unlike her! My mind just leaps to explain. My assumptions seem so wrong, but it's all I have."

Dr. Renzatl slipped her voice in softly, to console. "In getting back to my personal opinion of the Princess, she is very deliberate. Of course, the decision to remain behind is precisely deliberate, but in that case I don't think she would have bothered to introduce herself, or to even bother with a behavioral assessment. Do you?"

"Confound it," Mon Mothma sat back in her chair with a fond smile. "What I don't know anymore. Leia- the Princess. She _is_ a lovely young woman. And so brilliant really. Whenever I visited Alderaan, Leia was with us. I remember her under the table once. She was very small. But she grew up... _listening, _do you know what I mean? Such a capable assistant to her father, with such a grasp of the issues at hand. I wouldn't put it past her to make it _look_ like she wanted us to think she stayed behind, but also I can't think what would possess her to not board..." Mon Mothma massaged her temples. "I just want to know where she is."

"Is it possible she boarded another transport?"

Mon Mothma sagged relievedly in her chair. "I'm glad you brought that up," she said. "I asked the same thing. Jan- General Dodonna didn't deem it worth discussing, but he's entitled to his opinion. At least he is checking for me.

"There are six satellite bases in total; here and five others. Passenger shuttles took sentients and freighters carried non-sentient and equipment. The freighters were scheduled multiple drops. Travel time varied, or course. But eight days later, all Alliance shuttles have checked in, and all report no sign of the Princess. Freighters have been told to check in as soon as they receive the order. Not all drops are completed, but so far no word that the Princess stowed away on a freighter. Why she would-" Mon Mothma pursed her lips. "However," she continued, "one freighter is overdue at its first drop."

Dr. Renzatl spread her hands. "I think you have your answer right there."

"Yes." Mon Mothma still looked troubled.

"It doesn't explain why or how she missed her assigned one," Dr. Renzatl continued, "but at least you can now ask her."

"Yes. Yes." The Minister frowned. "I still cannot comprehend the nature of her reaction. I can't see that she would opt- there must be an explanation."

"Overdue isn't necessarily good news, either," Dr. Renzatl mused over the Minister's ramblings. "Could they have met the Empire anywhere in their travels?"

"Scouts reported the Empire entered Yavin's system six hours after the last ship evacuated. The other satellite bases are clear. The Alliance is safe, for now."

Dr. Renzatl was trying to cut through the information. She could do nothing about the Empire. She was useless when it came to the whereabouts of missing freighters. But a missing Princess... "What freighter is it?"

"The one that brought her in from the Death Star."

"The one with the two men and the Wookiee?" Dr. Renzatl asked to confirm. Oh, yes. It was plainly obvious where the Princess was.

"One man and a Wookiee. Commander Skywalker is with a squadron of X-Wings. He has reported in."

Luke Skywalker earned himself a high commission, Dr. Renzatl said to herself. Aloud, she had a question to pose. "Why is the idea of her on this freighter so upsetting?"

Mon Mothma resumed her tracing of the saucer. "Jan didn't consider this worth discussing either. That the Captain of that freighter forced her aboard."

"She knew him from the Death Star," Dr. Renzatl said firmly.

"Yes, I know-"

"Minister," Dr. Renzatl shifted in her seat to soften her words, "Why are you doing this to the Princess? I don't believe you have any evidence for this opinion. I'm sorry to sound like General Dodonna, but-" The doctor paused, wondering how to get through to the Minister. "She told me she wanted to speak with both Commander Skywalker and the freighter captain- I forget his name- before leaving."

"She'd taken her oath," the Minister tried to support her argument. "She had an assigned transport. She's been through a hell of an ordeal. And that Captain..."

"She knew him from the Death Star," Dr. Renzatl repeated.

"Yes, but he demanded money for her return. Said he'd heard there'd be a reward, but there was no such thing. I had told Bail his daughter was most likely dead! Why would we have a reward? It's obvious the type of man he is. What if he brings her to the Empire? What if he ransoms her?"

"I think," Dr. Renzatl said slowly, "if you permit me my professional opinion of you, Minister, that you are failing to recognize, and allow, for the Princess to be devastated."

Mon Mothma began a sputtering protest, but Dr. Renzatl held her hand up. "You say Viceroy Organa was devastated when told about his daughter. Why shouldn't the Princess react in similar horror? You admit to me your mind is making strange leaps and assumptions, why shouldnt' that also be true of the Princess?

"As far as the Captain goes," Dr. Renzatl continued, "He was granted the Medal of Bravery. And maybe he _did_ learn of a reward, however unlikely that is." She was trying to recall the details of Princess Leia's narrative of her rescue. The Princess had insisted it was an accident. But also that Captain Solo carelessly allowed his ship to be brought aboard the Death Star. Could Kenobi have promised payment? She shook the thought away. It did not matter, and Dr. Renzatl was neither a historian nor detective.

"You are defending him," Mon Mothma observed stiffly. She shoved her cup away like it was an angry thought.

"I'm offering a different viewpoint," Dr. Renzatl stated. "His ship was aboard the Death Star, and it took part in the battle over Yavin. I would think there would be a reward for his capture now, so I don't believe he'd be able to ransom the Princess off to the Empire. Not without getting killed himself."

"I suppose that is sensible," Mon Mothma allowed.

"Yes. And I will repeat what you told me: it is the ship that brought her away from the Death Star. You don't think that would have significance for the Princess?"

"You seem to think it would."

"I can assure you it does." Dr. Renzatl stood. She refused to feed speculation any longer. "Rest your mind, Minister. As long as that delayed freighter is safe, I believe the Princess is also. I am sorry for your loss. I understand what Viceroy Organa meant to you. Just don't let the swirling questions you have about his death color how you treat Princess Leia's survival. That is not fair to her."

Mon Mothma also stood. "Thank you, Albrina. I admit, I've been... distraught. And terribly worried. The mind works in odd ways. Your presence tells me that. Tells me what a fool I'm being. Gods. Why would I... that I almost preferred the thought of her dead? of her own design? over taking off in a private freighter?"

"It's how _you _characterize the events," Dr. Renzatl told her. "You wondered if Bail Organa surrendered to grief. You apply the same to the Princess."

"Perhaps. I feel now, in hindsight... I wish I hadn't made the call. To Bail, about Leia."

"I understand," Dr. Renzatl said. "You regret it because you didn't have all the information at the time." She drifted toward the door.

"I was mistaken," Mon Mothma said. "His last moments were unbearable grief."

"Whatever the Princess's motives are, please know she is not wrong," Dr. Renzatl pressed. "You want her to be assured that her father was happy she survived. And proud, and relieved. If she had that, you think she wouldn't go off in a private freighter."

Mon Mothma followed the doctor to the door. "I think that's true." She sounded surprised.

"When you see her," Dr. Renzatl waited for the door to slide open, "don't be afraid to tell her of her father's grief," she advised. "It will show her how deeply she was loved."

Mon Mothma had herself firmly under control. She pressed the door controls and nodded. "Thank you, Albrina, for meeting with me and clearing my mind. This meeting was for me, personally." She straightened her shoulders, and when she spoke again, the measured purpose of her words had returned. "We still need to discuss the refugee situation, but I'll allow you time to pull your team together. My assistant will schedule a meeting."

Dr. Renzatl nodded professionally at the dismissal. She breezed through the assistant's office, who opened a second door to the hallway for her from his desk. "Goodbye, Major," he said without looking upl.

She didn't bother to answer. The meeting had given her a lot to think about. She found the motives of the missing Princess keenly interesting, but refused to reflect on them until she had a chance to speak with her again.


	20. The Graveyard, I

If she did this, it would be real.

No, if the captain pointed out the cockpit window at the rocks swirling towards the ship, and said, "That's Alderaan," she would not have to believe him. She would not have to accept it.

She should see, instead of what was out there, not recognizable- she would make him fly everywhere, until they found it- the planet that looked green and blue. Three large continents, colored green for the land, ribbons of blue here and there that were rivers, snaking their way to the ocean, a seamless expanse of blue separating the continents.

Space was cruel. Cold, airless. When a tree died on Alderaan its green leaves turned brown and insects and fungi made it their diet. The wood grew soft, and birds made it a home. In space, you couldn't tell a tree from a brick or bone.

She would see _something_, of course. That's what she was afraid of. _Yes, _she confirmed to her thumping heart, _I am afraid. _

And then she was back on the Death Star. Not in front of Darth Vader, who hurt her so terribly, but Grand Moff Tarkin, who was admonishing her like she was a child, "You're far too trusting," whose gaunt face simpered at her like a kindly grandfather.

And what he did! Turned not just a planet into nothing, took who she was, all she had known, but made her _afraid._

It was easiest to die, but Luke hadn't let her. And it was easier to scream in pain, but Han didn't allow that either. But they couldn't cure her of the fear, and she was so... _angry_ at Tarkin.

He had died the same as her father. And he didn't deserve that death. He didn't deserve the Death Star. What he deserved-

She was going to see what was out there, the swirling rocks, the sun's light that reached farther than it had before- because she didn't want to be afraid of it. It deserved her love. It had been her home.

She was going to see what was out there, and... she didn't know. She might not be afraid anymore. She didn't want to be.


	21. The Graveyard, III

"You ready for this?"

Han didn't have to swivel in his seat to talk to her; Chewie had gotten up and let Leia have his. She sat cocooned in it, enveloped by its oversize. Han still had her strap in, "in case" he had said, but the seat was so big she could draw her legs up, her knees at her chest. She had brought a blanket out from the crew quarters, too. It was sky blue and thin, not very warm, but she wasn't cold.

She only looked at him. She could tell her eyes were large; they felt stretched open at the corners. They did it on their own but she lacked the muscle control to return them to normal.

"I'm gonna bring us out," he forewarned her.

Hyperspace was sound more than sight. The ship's engines let a traveler know they were in motion while outside it didn't look like anything was happening. Just a frank blackness. Leia held on to the view one last time, because very soon it wouldn't be that simple. Han pulled a lever downwards and the engines clunked.

"Switching over," he said apologetically, and cocked his head, listening. A thump came, and Leia could tell a different set of engines had kicked into gear. "There," he said, satisfied.

First came streaks of white as the ship slowed, starshine light years old. Then the streaks solidified to white dots. Finally, space had features: closer suns, blazing infernos; swirls of gas and solid spheres of rock and life.

"We'll be there in a minute," Han cautioned. "I set it a bit farther than I thought it would be."

She thought back to the calculations he made by hand. "Should I be nervous?" she answered with a tease, just to let him know she was all right.

He grinned. "Nah."

"I'm not a spacer," she said. "Or even a pilot. I never really thought about space travel as dangerous."

"It's as dangerous as anything, I suppose," Han answered with a shrug. "But using hyper takes some skill. You don't wanna bump into anything."

The pace of her heart eased. She thought about how she'd lived, Princess or Senator Leia, wrapped up in herself, relying on her pilot to bring her all sorts of places. She took space travel for granted, she supposed.

"Does that happen often?" she asked him.

Han kept a sharp eye on the console while sneaking a few glances out the cockpit window. "Given the number of ships in flight at a given moment, no. But the holonews always makes a big deal about it.

"Luke watched," Han remembered. "Didn't even strap in. First time."

"Poor Luke," Leia said. First time out of hyper, and what he saw was the unnatural end of a planet. She felt sorry for him. When he stood behind Chewie and Han, holding on while meteorites bounced off the ship, it had to remind him of coming home to find his aunt and uncle. If she was in his place, that's where her mind would jump. He hadn't said anything, more worried about upsetting her, but he didn't have to. She knew him.

"Do you see that haze?" Han pointed. "That's the physical location of Alderaan. It's her dust. Molecules of dust, and the sun's gravitational pull will make 'em come together, 'til they're rocks like this band here. Excuse me," he said politely, and stood to reach abover her head. The belly of his white shirt was near her cheek and the edge of his spacer's vest bumped her hair bun. "Shields," he explained. "Chewie's job."

She nodded silently. Her eyes were large so she could take it all in. _Molecules of Alderaan, _and the thought was somewhat comforting. For wasn't that how planets formed? Gravity pulling more and more pieces of mineral together, until they were big enough to form an orbital path? And after a billion years, if the conditions were right, life might form?

Alderaan had been destroyed, she mused; that was true. Killed by the Empire. It wasn't the first to... to die; suns were known to do that and sometimes they took a planet with them. And weren't all suns dying? Leia frowned, trying to remember the science. They were burning, consuming themselves. But science called it a death. How poetic. They would have to call Alderaan a murder.

She watched the rocks, Alderaan as victim on her mind. Out here, with all the suns and stars and planets, it just didn't seem possible. That a life form could grow bigger than space, dictate what happened out here. Billions of years or one push of a button...

Rocks swirled but all the time they were pulled, towards one another, together. It was so... constant. Calm.

But while Alderaan had been destroyed, maybe... also... she dared to think, maybe, it was... interrupted. They'd happened upon her like she was back at her beginning, stepped back into time. Someday- someday, Alderaan might be a planet again. Only it might again take billions of years to be the place Leia knew, and she would never know.

Would anyone remember? Not remember exactly like in a memory, but in a timeline of history? Would someone- if there was such a thing a billion years from now- would the old star charts have a meaning? Could they be read? Was the story of Alderaan passed down through the millennia, and children grew up, generations of children, studying space in school...

The first generations would point a little stubby finger up to the night sky, and tell their parents that gap in the star system was made when an ancient empire destroyed a planet. Later, descendants of those first children would point a similarly stubby finger and talk about science, not history, and admire the place in the sky that was the process of a planet being reborn. Alderaan again.

Oh, she had such longing right now, looking out the window, as the rocks- some big, some smaller- hurtled towards them, veering off as they met the _Falcon's_ shields. And she stared at the haze, and wanted to tell her father what she thought, that it was terrible and unnatural, but that the laws of nature would get to work, and someday it would _be_ again.

And she had such a perspective of time. All the years it took to become Alderaan. A lifeless rock, revolving around the sun; it had taken billions of years for the wind to form, for the soil to layer, for the magma to cause the mountains to rise, for water to condense and then freeze and then thaw. And the creatures that had once roamed the surface, evolved or died out: there was proof of them. They left their fossils in rocks, they got caught in the sap of trees. She had seen them in the natural history museums.

Her breathing was shallow and her eyes huge, and she was willing to wait. To sit a billion years in the cockpit, waiting. And when the time came, she would point out to Captain Solo, "There! There I am. That's who I used to be."

The intercom beeped. She was aware Han flicked his eyes at her. "Yeah," he answered Chewie.

Leia watched the rocks while Chewie spoke.

Han said, like he deserved it, "Thank you." More rumbling came out of the speaker. Leia felt Han's eyes slide to her again. "I think so," he said. Then, "No." He put his elbow on the console, catching her attention. "Chewie wants to know how you are."

She looked at him. From inside the speaker, Chewie growled something.

"He says you're silent."

Chewie's tenderness made her smile, her lips together, and she thought her eyes might be glittering.

"She's still bein' quiet," Han told his partner, "but I think she thanks you for your concern." He turned to Leia. "He wants to know if he can come up front."

Her knees had been shielding her heart. She lowered them guiltily. "Of course," she said, and realized something heartfelt. "I want him to see."

Han put a hand on her knee cap but didn't let it linger. "He didn't ask to sit, Princess. Stay." He waved a hand toward the outside of the cockpit, trying not to speak and ruin the moment. "I'll, um. You... Let me know when you're ready, alright?"

She settled back into Chewie's seat, her eyes already back on the rocks. "Tell him thank you," she told Han.

"Him," Han said. "Sure."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What she really wanted to do was keep Alderaan company. Sit, and watch as the dust moved away and didn't need her anymore.

The rocks were hypnotizing. Luke had gone home and found something gruesome; Leia gave each rock her love. They prompted memories, and they belonged out here. Nowhere else. She remembered the first boy that kissed her, the time she made her maidens abandon their chores to go swimming, friends staying overnight, giggling. _A million voices. _

But life was so gritty and impatient, and getting up to use the 'fresher was going to break the spell. Her bladder was growing so insistent it made her forget what story she was telling a rock.

Bladders had a function, and so did Han. She'd kept him from making the Alliance deliveries. Suddenly, Leia started. The gloves and boots- somewhere cold_, _Han had surmised. What if the delayed supply was important. What if Alliance members were somewhere cold and had no protection?

It was time, Leia decided. Time to go.

On the way to the 'fresher she came upon Chewie and Han in what appeared to be an argument. The Wookiee's voice was low, in a menacing growl; she'd never heard such a sound from him before. It hadn't carried to the cockpit. His muscular arms were stretched out, shaking. Han's arms were also busy, one sticking a finger dangerously close to where Chewie could bite it, the other bent at the elbow, ready to throw a punch.

"... they travel?" Han's voice was angry. "A hundred kilometers per second. And you're just going to invite one in-"

Chewie threw his head back and roared in great frustration.

"I said no!"

Leia looked at them as she passed but the paid her no notice. She wasn't gone long, but they were still at it when she emerged.

"...doesn't fit you, so it'll be me, and that's not the point, 'cause once the shields are down anything it hits is pulverized!"

"What's going on?" Leia asked.

Chewie answered, offering a full explanation of the cause of their argument. She didn't know why he bothered since he must know she understood nothing.

"Ya feel better, you big oaf," Han said, still sour.

Chewie started up again, full of emotion.

"Let me tell her, all right?" Han said. "You stand here and listen, and if I'm paintin' it my way, as you say, you can interrupt."

"What is it?" Leia said, concerned.

"Ah, it's him," Han said, turning to her even though it left him vulnerable to those huge furry arms. "Some Wookiee nonsense. He wants to get you a meteorite"

"A what?" Leia said flabbergasted. "From out there?"

Chewie mimed plucking something from the air and holding it close to his chest.

Han, irritated, said, "He oughta know better by now."

"Is it," Leia said, her imagination catching, "not possible?"

Han looked at her suspiciously. "He wants to stick me in an EV suit, lower the shields and stand me on the hull, while I catch one." He shook his head and spoke over the Wookiee's howl of protest, "It's not physically possible!"

"What did he say?" Leia asked.

"To use a net, or a bucket."

Chewie sounded like he believed it was a sound idea.

"Yeah, go ahead," Han said, fully sarcastic. "Sweep what's left of me into your bucket after I've been pulverized."

"Didn't the ship handle the debris field before?"

Han widened his eyes at her in disbelief and frustration. "Yeah, but on sublights she travels almost as fast, and she's shielded."

Chewie sounded like he was offering an alternative.

"What now?" Leia asked as Han shook his head.

"His other genius idea is to open the airlock and let one in like a bug on a summer night-"

Leia smiled a little at his colloquial description.

"-let it bounce around 'til it gets tired. I don't need to mention how much damage that'll cause. Haven't begun to mention the radiation."

Leia came up with her own idea, and looked at Chewie apologetically in case he had already mentioned it. "Is the ship equipped with a tractor beam?"

"No." The bob of Han's head seemed to say this was the only possibility. "The _Falcon_ will not be the ship to bring you a piece of Alderaan, Your Highness. I'm sorry." The correct use of her title sounded rare.

Chewie spread his arms wide. He cocked his head at Leia and howled mournfully. Leia smiled at him and stepped into his hug. His fur was soft and tickled her nose. "That's all right," she told them both. "I wouldn't have thought of it if Chewie hadn't."

The Wookiee continued to sound sad. Leia rubbed the fur on his arm. "Why is this so important?"

"Just Wookiee lore. He ought to know better now, he's seen a billion of 'em."

Chewie roared, and Han was good enough to translate, Leia thought, though he probably could have told her without going through Chewie first.

"Wookiees live in the trees. Just under the top. The leaves and branches are the, the ceiling-" Han adjusted his translation after an interruption from Chewie. "-the sky. So they don't see the real sky much, just patches. There's day light, and there's darkness."

Han turned to Leia. "Did your culture map the constellations?" he wanted to know. "Make up shapes for 'em?"

Leia nodded. "Of course."

"Well, Wookiees don't. They could now; now they've been offplanet, but they don't. 'Cause they don't see the stars much from the trees, you see. So, a shooting star is really rare."

Leia found Chewie's blue eyes. "I see," she said.

"Wookiee lore says a shooting star is a fallen spirit. And Wookiee's don't leave- not their homes, not for a hunt, not to wage war- for nine days."

"Why nine?"

Han looked up at Chewie. "He don't know. The idea is you stay still so the spirit can find its way home and not get distracted by mortal life."

"That's lovely," Leia said.

"Yeah, well. It's just a story. Chewie's seen too many stars to think they're all spirits, right? And very clearly these are rocks." Han looked pointedly at his partner.

"I like the empathy of the story," Leia said. She was speaking to Chewie only. "I was just in there," her head leaned toward the cockpit, "thinking about the rocks. And they prompted me to think of people I knew. Not like they were spirits, but like they told a story? I wasn't thinking to help anyone get home. Maybe for the rocks to be a home.

"And we were weren't moving. We were still," Leia said. She had no idea how long she spent, watching; it wasn't near nine days. "A shooting star is far from home, isn't it, Chewie? But these are very close."

Chewie's tone was gentle, despite the harsh gutteral tones. Leia looked at Han.

"He said you're probably the fallen spirit. And you found your way home."

Leia's eyes filled and she hugged Chewie again to leave the wetness of her tears on his fur, that when she looked at Han again her eyes would be dry. "Thank you for bringing me."

Han snapped his fingers. "Wait," he said. "I got something."

Chewie woofed a question, and Leia heard herself doing the interpreting though it was her guess and Han wouldn't need it. Probably she and Chewie had the same thought. "Something to catch a rock?"

"No, something for you." He strode to a storage cabinet and was rummaging about. Chewie came over to ask what.

It was in the second cabinet. Leia smiled in sympathy for the object. It was a lopsided candle.

"Told ya I had one," Han bragged.

Leia kept smiling. "It's a sorry-looking candle," she appraised it, letting her fingers caress his knuckles as she took it from him. "Why do you have it?"

Chewie and Han exchanged a glance. "We were somewhere," Han said. "The power where we were docked wasn't too reliable. Want to throw it out the airlock?"

"It won't burn."

"Out there, no. But you can light it in here. Let space snuff it." She seemed to hesitate. "Chewie doesn't know why it's nine days," Han pointed out. "Do you know why yours is a month?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure if there's a specific reason, other than it's a set time period."

"I can't stay a month."

"I know you can't. That's why I-"

"-but I could come back."

"No." Leia shook her head, deciding. "I'm here now. Let's light it and let it go."


	22. Longing

Han had to dig through the nav'puter's history to reclaim the coordinates the Alliance had sent him... how many days ago was it?

He had winked at her again. "Be funny, wouldn't it, if I lost 'em? Comm Luke: hey, where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"No, that would not be at all funny," Leia said.

Han had shrugged. "At least we got Luke to turn to."

"Luke is not a designated contact. He's only a pilot and we'd get him in heaps of trouble."

The mention of Luke tempered Leia's mood. Funny, that Han would be the one to mention him.

"It feels like forever since we've seen him," she said. "I hope he's not lonely."

"He's flying with a squadron," Han pointed out. "Which means he's living with a squadron. There's no way he's lonely."

"I wonder how his Jedi training is going."

"It probably isn't."

Leia nodded. Luke was ascendant, on the rise from farmer to Jedi. She could see it if Han couldn't. In some way, though they were talking about Luke, she had applied the conversation to herself. Not that she had any kind of training to do. But she felt the same. Luke would be frustrated, maybe even a little isolated, and she understood that.

_It probably isn't. _Just what was she supposed to be doing? And why did she feel put upon, when this was all her doing? It was she who caused the delay of joining Mon Mothma, wherever she was.

Leia began to feel a little guilty. Not for asking Han and Chewie to detour for her; that had been important. It had been right. And they were willing. Not once had they made an effort to talk her out of something. Question it, yes; balk, no. That alone meant a great deal to her. But the Alliance was quite possibly having a fit.

The thing to do... the _polite_ thing, Leia thought wryly, would be to ask Han to make one more stop in the Core so they could send a message. But Han was not polite. The delay didn't concern him; the Empire in the space lanes did. He preferred the ghostly maneuvers of hyperspace.

It would be three more days to the first base drop. Leia decided to check in then and find out where her destination was. She assumed it was the same place where Mon Mothma was, and she was keeping her fingers crossed the two- Han's coordinates and the location of Mon Mothma- coincided.

The next leg of the journey meant she would be living on a freighter with a man and a Wookiee for well over a week. It made her miss her father. She wanted to tell him all that had happened, talk about all the changes, explain how even though she wasn't living like a princess anymore, she still felt like one.

And he would smile, that patient, indulgent smile only a father could offer.

Somewhere at home, its remains now contained inside the Graveyard, was her star yacht. The mattress in her cabin was at least twice the thickness of Han's. It had a galley, and she traveled with a cook. Maidens, of course. A security team. Two passenger lounges, with port holes to watch space from a body conform seat, a water shower. There was even carpeting, she thought, noting the heads of rivets sticking out of the floor panels of the _Falcon. _The maidens would ensure her reputation remained intact and the security detail would separate her from the crew.

She didn't mention it to Han. It would ruin the trip. He had some sort of attitude about... not princesses, or royalty, Leia thought, but privilege. The only way to describe it was that it pissed him off.

On the _Falcon, _she could feel the metal bars under the mattress in the crew cabin bunk. They ate rehy, she played chess on a bench with torn upholstery under a tube of wires, she sonicked herself clean. She was alone a good deal of the time.

Leia's path intersected with Luke's. That's how she met him, she thought, on his way to greatness, because she was a fallen Princess turned freighter passenger.

What had her father told her in the dream? _We all do what we must. _

She decided the analogy was a poor one. This was not a descent. Her father would understand too, she thought. This voyage lacked the surreal quality everything took on after the Death Star. She hadn't woken in a frantic panic for several days now. She had learned to shoot. She could count from one to ten in Shyriiwook, or at least understand when Chewie did it.

It felt natural. This, however, was not the same as a happy thought. It couldn't be natural because it occurred out of the aftermath of Alderaan's destruction, and that was not natural. And the Princess Leia of old would most likely never find herself on a freighter or listen to a Wookiee speak. Not even for the Rebellion. Even her mission to get the Death Star plans was an elaborate ruse of diplomacy and royalty.

She could shoot, she could count. She could even smile. She lived with Han and Chewie. And her gut told her this was right but there was a lingering emptiness. Being with Chewie was nice. He was wonderful, actually. Even their inability to communicate was just what she needed. It removed any expectations. It removed the need to think.

Han sometimes intervened to translate, though she didn't want him to. She liked to let the Shyriiwook grunts and growls wash over her, be absorbed into her.

"This is the basis of their counting," Han burst into explanation one afternoon when he got impatient with the constant repetition of the number six. "One is," and he made the approximate noise Chewie did, and the Wookiee laughed. "Two," Han went on, "is, and listen." He made a different noise. "It translates as 'one again'. Right? Three is one again, one."

His attempts at Shyriiwook, a language humans weren't biologically equipped to speak well, continued to make Chewie giggle. "Four-" Han held his hand out, like an invitation to dance but he wanted her to answer. She shook her head.

"Two again. Which is really one again, again. Don't ya hear it?"

Leia concentrated. And she was able to pick out a common sound. Han helped her not just repeat sounds but hear words, and her ears began to open to this difficult language. And she found it characteristic of what she knew of Wookiees so far. Large, simple concepts became building blocks to more complex ideas. "So five is four, one? Two again, again, one."

Han beamed at Chewie. "Again. And again and again and again. Your first real word besides numbers."

Han was a study in self-restraint. Actually Leia couldn't describe what he was; self-restraint was probably wrong. It was't composure or reserve but a type of awareness. Not of the self but of him around others.

But he was different around her now than he had been their first trip together, from the Death Star to Yavin, when he tried to make himself offensive. Chewie explained it, and of course Leia had not been able to understand, and Han was too grumpy to translate, and that alone gave her a sense of him. He had been panicked, she figured on her own; either that or embarrassed.

And that was why Luke was never offended and liked Han. He saw through the bluster. Leia decided she liked him, too. Back then, that first trip, she couldn't tell anyone anything; not even two plus two, because she doubted it. Now rudimentary things, like counting and identifying emotions, had returned to her.

She spent much of the time in quiet observation of the pair. This was what they were doing before Alderaan disappeared from the sky, and they continued, almost without missing a beat, after. They'd added a farmer and a princess, which baffled Han, and which in turn amused Leia, but she couldn't fault them.

Chewie took the first shift in the cockpit after they made hyper. Han and Leia sat at the gaming table, positioned side by side at the widest part of the bench's curve. Travel supplies were getting low ("didn't count on the detour," Han had drawled, to which Leia had rejoined, "you should always be prepared for an emergency") and they had to share a ration bar. Luke's poncho, which Leia had folded neatly, was on the bench on her other side.

"I really miss that candle," Han said now, slouching downward and stretching his arms out along the bench. "Nice atmosphere to eat by."

Leia smiled, remembering the crooked, dirty candle he couldn't find in the cabinet they had sent out to join the rocks of Alderaan. She till had a chunk of her bar left. "Did you get enough eat?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She leaned her head back against his forearm and sighed. She saw him look at her, and he changed which ankle crossed over the other.

"I think I know why Chewie's people don't go longer than nine days," she told Han. "The waiting period for the lost spirit."

"Been thinkin' about it, have you?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead and up toward the ceiling. "I have. I decided it's because someone got hungry."

"Hungry? What do you mean?"

She fluttered a hand. "Or out of oil for the lamps, or another tribe encroached on their territory and they had to defend. Do you know why I stayed as long as I did looking at the debris field?"

"No," Han said, one word making her want to hear his voice again.

Leia returned to the Wookiee story of the shooting star. "I decided the waiting period ended out of need," she said. "They were out of food, and needed to get something to eat. I had a need," she said.

Han turned his head to look at her. "What was yours?"

She rolled her neck to face him, and their height difference gave her a closeup of the scar and the interesting path his lips took because of it, even with him slouched low. She smiled. "I had to use the 'fresher."

A laugh of surprise left him and he kissed her temple, curling his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. "You had to pee, huh?" he said, still laughing.

"Set it in stone," Leia laughed lightly back. The kiss was unexpectedly affectionate, she thought, a relaxing of that self-restraint. "From now on, when anyone visits the graveyard, they stay only- how long were we there?"

"Not quite three hours."

"Let's call it three. And don't tell anyone the origin of the pilgrimage is because of Princess Leia's bladder."

He was still laughing, and Leia listened, waiting to see if he would kiss her again. It would be nice if he did, she realized, a little surprised at herself. It made her review her behavior over the years.

She had to go backwards. There were two kisses to Luke's cheek. The last one was for solace. He was mourning Ben, Han's refusal, his own upcoming death, and she wanted him to know she would mourn him too.

The first one was spontaneous; an eruption of emotion bursting out of her. They were about to swing on a cable, across what looked like a bottomless chasm on the Death Star. It was Luke's moment, when his heroism really started to blossom. She was congratulating him on it, for she was pretty sure it wasn't going to work. "For luck," she said, because without it they would fall to their deaths, but she preferred it over being shot by storm troopers...

But man to woman. Had she ever...thought it? _Kiss me. _

She dated. Sort of. If one could call arranged partners at a ball a date. She was freer on Coruscant after her election but she was careful of the hologossips. She also felt funny, alone without the gossip of the maidens and aware of all the eyes on her.

One boy had kissed her, and she knew it was coming. She remembered thinking, _ach, he's going to kiss me, _and she had let it. Closed her eyes, leaned into it, thought, _this is a kiss. _

It had been nice. Careful. Kind of forced, or awkward, like the boy had been planning it. One shouldn't plan kisses. The boy, Leia thought. Han was far from a boy.

This one wasn't planned. And not really romantic.

But it could be. Her palms started to sweat when she realized it could be, that she...

But she missed her opportunity. If she had lifted her chin, strained upward a little bit, maybe his lips would have met hers, but the problem was only his fingers were lightly rubbing her shoulders, and the spontaneity of the moment passed.

Why was she no longer brave? She could hold off Darth Vader, beat him at his own game, but she couldn't turn to a tall, teasing smuggler and say, "kiss me." She couldn't twist her own body to his, lift her hand to his neck, and bring her lips to meet his.

Her head still rested against his forearm. He would have to get up, start hyper duty, as he called it. She ached; lonely and burning, but she couldn't move.


	23. Dread

This wasn't a moment of now or never, like when she had slinked into the shadows of the engineering room on the _Tantive IV_. This was just the inevitable. Leia didn't understand why she was so on edge.

It was just a landing. Space was calm; the flight was smooth. Chewie and Han were ready.

"Back to business," Han had said.

Leia supposed he was right. Maybe that's what the landing signified to her.

She had a history of landings. Some she should have made, some she didn't get the chance too. It seemed the older she got, the more important- the more symbolic- they became.

And Han and Chewie looked like they needed rest. Chewie had grown quieter. There was a slump to Han's shoulders she hadn't seen before. Even Leia, who was treated as a passenger and not given any crew duty, was tired. The pull of lightyears after zipping through time was taking its toll. She wanted to ask them if it was common to spend so much time in hyper, but didn't want the answer to be 'no' so she retreated to her quarters.

She sat on a bunk, hands clasped and pressing the fingers together. The base was as yet unidentified. She didn't care about that. In a way this base was like a hyper jump, just a stepping stone. But the _landing_ gnawed at her. This one. Others.

The _Tantive IV_ never made it to its final landing coordinates. The vessel, plain and durable, was boarded by Darth Vader and more storm troopers than was safe to occupy the entire ship. Leia remembered how she was... tense. Not frightened, but tense, waiting for the inevitable. Now, sitting on a bunk of the _Falcon,_ she was... nervous, and she chided herself for overreacting.

Inevitable. That too, though- looking back, knowing the outcome, what transpired aboard the _Tantive IV_ is now the inevitable. Her capture, destined. The mission failed. The crew, the maidens-

Why are things opened ended, she wanted to know. Why, if this was inevitable, if it was the last moment of normal she would ever know, why didn't something tell her to not just wave at her father from under the arch of the saluting crew? Why wasn't she permitted to... she couldn't know it obviously, but sense it? Strong enough to turn around on the ramp of the _Tantive IV_, which now, as she is sitting on the bunk, she sees is not just a ramp, but a... a threshold, a curtain. Something was waiting on the other side.

Her father knew. Did he? Is that why he had come to see her off? Had he seen a northern hawk circling the tarmac? Had he looked up, squinting against the sun, shading his eyes, and spotted the large circling bird whose bright green dots of plumage charted out some sort of path of warning? Would he take the vision back to the temple, ask the goddesses to interpret?

Why didn't she descend the ramp, take the time to make the moment matter?

She hadn't seen a northern hawk. Her father feared for her, that was all.

"I know the risks," she had said. To her, the mission made perfect sense. Looking back, she really thought she was going to pull it off, didn't she.

All those people she brought.

Her father was afraid, and she was bold and mistakenly confident, and in their moment of destiny, he was too paralyzed by fear to break the arch, and she was too dismissive to turn around.

If he had seen a hawk- he hadn't; there was no omen- he would go back to his office and build a rescue plan. He would stay in contact with the crew of the _Tantive IV_, he might call upon General Kenobi himself-

Instead he let her go.

From the bunk, she reviewed the moment. It was like working a maze, she thought, when you reach a juncture and you choose a path. She can see the tiny wave she gave him, like she has been granted the footage.

The perspective is from the top of the ramp. Leia watches herself begin to ascend the ramp, and her eyes met the first few faces of the crew, their right arms raised to form the arch and their eyes directed at it. Before she crossed the threshold into the ship, she turned around, and too far away for his voice to carry over the noise of the ship is her father. She might not be able to hear him, but she could see his eyes. Even now, from the quiet of the crew quarters, his eyes are blazing. And Leia's smile to him was small. Her only hope now is that when he sat in his winged back chair, thinking of her after the Alliance made the call that told him she was arrested, he saw that smile as vividly as she saw his eyes now.

And then she let him go.

"Alright, Princess," the intercom brought her Han's voice. He sounded impatient, or irritated; the fallout from their delayed arrival was just beginning. "It's now or never," he said. "Come out and meet our hosts."

The coincidence of the phrase struck her, and she closed her eyes against the words, and shook her head with a wryness her father did not deserve.

Hosts. Luke might be here, she was thinking, trying to bolster a way that brought her out of a reluctance she couldn't explain. It would be good to see him.

_Leia! _he would shout, running heedlessly through the protocol to give her a hug, and they would let him, because he was Luke Skywalker, hero.

He would dive right in. _They told me you were missing, but I wasn't worried. I knew you'd be with Han._

Leia surprised herself at the tone her imaginary conversation took. _Is that so?_ she would answer, arching a brow.

_I want you to be happy,_ Luke would tell her, boyish and earnest. _And you leaving on the Falcon makes me happy._

How Luke's happiness meant hers, Leia had no idea, but she did want him to be happy.

Or this base could be Mon Mothma's command, and Leia could stop drifting finally.

Mon Mothma... when Leia pictured her, her father was always there. Her mother too, but Mon and Bail were old colleagues and friends, since long before Leia was born.

She knew it was stupid to think it. It was beyond the realm of possibility; yet there it was, in her, and she couldn't stop it: a landing scenario she could imagine. Descend the ramp, look past all the activity that told her somehow this was Mon Mothma's base, until her eyes rested on two still figures. Mon Mothma of course, in the wildly patterned tunic traditional to Chandrila, and her father, wearing the same suit she last saw him in because he hadn't time to pack before-

His smile at her would be torn with emotion at all he had made her suffer; so sorry, but so glad too, and she would forgive him, so happy...

And they would tell her a great, fantastic story. How Bail Organa escaped his doomed planet and Mon Mothma helped him elude the Empire and brought him to her hiding place...

Mon Mothma was crying in her holomessage, Leia reminded herself. She _knew_ better, knew it was useless, but she couldn't stop thoughts of her father waiting for her, a possible fantasy.

She wanted this landing to be personal, not business.

When she reached the cockpit Han and Chewie were talking, in Shyriiwook and Corellian. Listening to them...no, not listening to them; coming upon them deep in conversation confirmed what she suspected of herself. Her existence was... sometimes, or ghostlike. In and out, like a bad connection.

Chewie asked something, an introspective tone in his growl.

"Sick," she thought Han answered in his native tongue. She wasn't sure. She didn't think she was right, because the context was hard to fit.

Chewie said, clearly, "Again." Leia was proud to recognize the word.

"Mm," Han muttered in any language, and he sensed Leia, turning around as Chewie said something declarative. "Shino-ak," he told her, ignoring Chewie. "I'd heard rumors of this place."

"Had you?" she answered, standing behind his chair to get a good look out the cockpit window.

Chewie shook his head.

"Yeah, you pick up bits here and there," Han said casually.

"How has the Empire not managed to pick up anything about it if smugglers talk so easily?"

They were already deep into atmo. There was no telling what the planet looked like. Just the base. No trees, hard-topped roads, long white buildings aligned in two columns. It had a look of maturity about it. The base at Yavin had seemed clumsy. The temples were adapted for reuse. It was more an occupation. Shino-ak was built.

"Smugglers don't talk if the Empire is around," Han snorted. "No one wants to get arrested _that_ easily."

Leia meant to grin at Han's assessment, but her stomach was sinking a little as the _Falcon _made her approach.

"How do you know the Empire isn't around while you're talking?" she asked to hide her nervousness.

"Talk is over a drink and a deck of cards. Not to a stranger."

Missile cannons followed their path and it wasn't a loading crew that was rushing outside with blasters held at the ready. Instinctively, Leia knew: this wasn't where Mon Mothma was.

"Why do you talk about places like Shino-ak?" Leia kept talking. "What kind of interest would a military base hold to a bunch of lawbreakers?"

"Rebellion's breaking the law, too," Han said. "Right? You were arrested for treason. B'sides. It's good for business."

Leia observed the tired set of his shoulders."Good for business how?" She imagined a bunch of beings, shadowy and resourceful and opinionated, revealing secrets that took on little weight other than as rumors.

"Empire's gotten slack about trafficking. Too busy fightin' people like you," Han told her. "'Course," he flipped a hand over, and quickly returned it to the console levers, "it goes both ways. Piracy is up. So's the slave trade."

"Hmm," Leia grunted at the irony of listening to a smuggler complain about crime. "You should consider running for the senate," she commented dryly.

"If there was one," Han shot back.

He was just making observations. Sharp ones, perhaps, but nothing that put him at any risk. Leia could spur him on if she wanted to, about politics and economics and social decency. How when the Rebellion achieved victory the New Alliance would be bad-mouthed by smugglers same as the Empire was.

Nothing was going to make a difference to these outlaws. It was a depressing realization. Han would always remain on the opposite end of the spectrum from her. Right now, in this time of uncertainty, lines were blurred and they could work together. When the lens were sharpened, however, Leia would go back to her corner, clear and focused, and Han would what? Escape through a crack, go underground. _And then what, Pati. What will it have meant?_

It had to mean something. The realization came swift and hard. Not just victory. Leia needed more.

Han and Chewie went back to their languages. Talk, she thought ironically, and she lost track of what they were discussing. By the tone, and their body language, it was probably the routine of flight.

"Everyone got their orders?" Han asked in Basic to the room at large and Leia nodded, fingering the data chip in the pocket of her Death Star gown.

"They're gonna do a sweep first," Han said.

"A sweep?" Leia noted sharply.

Han nodded. "We're overdue. Empire coulda compromised us a hundred ways. They gotta be careful, Princess."

Their surprise appearance must resemble the landing at Yavin, Leia thought, though she couldn't remember it. She frowned. She hadn't known- Where did the memory go? Yavin, she told herself. Suck sand.

Yes, she answered. She could see herself walking along a path, but that was _after. _The ship, though. Luke.

It was a blank. She remembered the flight, leaving the Death Star. They battled Tie fighters and she had done little things at the behest of Luke. Wash, rest. She had loud conversations with Captain Solo about medscans and money. But the landing- how she delivered the plans, introduced the others? What it looked like, what she said- she had no idea.

They waited under guard outside the _Falcon_, not talking. Chewie growled occasionally, not liking the way the ship was handled.

Leia studied the surroundings. Luke wasn't running to her, hustling oblivious through the guards, overjoyed. She squeezed her hands tighter and thought she really didn't want to land...

Leia wondered what she would say in her briefing. And who would brief her? Would she brought straight to Dr. Renzatl? Was she here? She didn't feel like saying anything. She would take responsibility, though, for the flight path of the _Falcon._ She would not discuss her unorthodox, incorrect manner of departure. She saw now it probably raised some concern. But it wasn't- she was arguing already- what was the term Dr. Renzatl used? Crisis event. It wasn't that.

Landings. Leia grit her teeth and plowed on with her thoughts, keeping herself in check while the scan crew stomped around inside the _Falcon_. She continued the recital of her history of landings, rehearsing the parts she would give Dr. Renzatl but not the others. This was business.

The _Tantive IV_ had made two. Phony ones, but not really. The tour was phony; a cover for delivering the plans, but Leia figured once they were out she would treat it for real. She had never been to the Outer Rim Territories.

She had invited the holopress along. She insisted on being open; that was her cover. She thought it would look more sincere if Emperor Palpatine received news of her travels.

Possibly that had been a mistake. Vader's starship located the _Tantive IV_ too easily. They hadn't had time-

Even the native beings suspected her visit. One told her, through C-3PO as interpreter, that no Imperial official had ever visited. Ever. He was quite emphatic. Leia had nodded understandingly and instructed C-3PO to ask the being to list any concerns.

She asked the journalists to send holocasts. She asked for huge amounts of data from the holoweb, things she could have gotten from C-3PO. Populations, languages, the weather and history. She wrote wordy missives and sent them to every Senate committee. She kept the flow of information to and from the _Tantive IV_ in constant motion, so that when the plans to the Death Star were transmitted, it would be just another large file Princess Leia needed for her diplomatic tour.

The maidens didn't know about Leia's secret mission. Sentiment among Alderaani was anti-Imperial, so when Captain Antilles told Leia, in the presence of her maidens, about the Star Destroyer requesting them to stop for boarding, they had all reacted in various degrees of protest.

Any merriment fled their faces when Leia had jumped to her feet and ordered, "Under no circumstances are they to board. Set course for Tatooine, and tell the crew to take to arms."

She had to act quickly. Sift through all those incoming files, locate the plans, extract them, and all the while the Star Destroyer was gaining ground. She would have liked to explain to the maidens, comfort them, but she had them wait in her quarters.

And she knew exactly which ones had been stoic, which ones stared at the door with large eyes and held breath, which ones cried fretfully and the ones who hushed them, for there were twelve maidens and each was their own character, and she knew them well.

Leia folded her arms against her stomach and pressed hard. Chewie made a noise of concern.

Oh, she realized it all of a sudden. The control a princess of Alderaan had! But then the Death Star took her power away. Princess Leia had become like a maiden. There didn't seem anything she could do about.

Except land. She had to land.


	24. Longing, II

Han had an act. The angle he cocked his head, watchful and merry- Leia had seen it before. And the small conversations he attempted with the guards ("Shino-ak. Doesn't that mean 'vacation cottage'?"): it was all one big act. Or it was many, many small ones, convenient for him at the time, and... what else- entertaining?

How callous. Or was _that_ an act?

What wasn't in the act was he was proud- smug, really. Shrewd about most things, but not all. He called Luke 'kid'. Leia's thoughts smiled at this. And he was waiting for something. The scan crews were aboard the _Millennium Falcon_, going over the cargo, sweeping for trackers, and checking communications. He, Chewie and Leia waited outside, under guard. The Mon Calamari guards had told them not to speak. That was for the briefing, Leia knew. If they hadn't gotten their stories straight by now they wouldn't get the chance. And yet they let Han try and spark a conversation.

Leia wanted an act. If she had an act she would _do_ something, and it didn't really matter what, because it was an act, and it started something.

Covertly, Leia regarded Han. He'd made no objection to the invasion of privacy of the _Falcon_. Was it going to raise suspicion that they had jammed communications while in the Graveyard? If so, he seemed not to care, only he was expecting something...

She toured the ship in her mind. There was nothing that stood out, nothing incriminating. Only- Luke's poncho was still on board. Leia knew exactly where it was, carelessly draped atop the gaming table; it was the one thing that looked personal, like the ship was a home. But it was Luke's.

She was certain Han had planned it that way. That was the gleam in his eye. The crooked slant of his mouth was a secret smile. He wanted the scan crew to pick up the poncho and make assumptions about it. False assumptions. Luke had merely left it behind, a lifetime ago, but for Han to use it-

Leia jerked her head, snapping thoughts back on herself. She wasn't going to waste time on the motivations of a smuggler who could just be playing games.

She could greet the guards, introduce herself. Play the father card. "I'm Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan." She would offer a hand- no. The aquatic Mon Calamari made eye contact and opened and closed pursed lips two times. She had made a study of greetings on other worlds. She would explain the reason for her presence, "My father helped Admiral Ackbar obtain Shino-ak."

Or demand to see Admiral Ackbar immediately. Act like the imperious royal Han thought was bossing him around on the Death Star.

Oh... Leia looked back. It seemed an act begat an act. Which was first: hers or his? It was instinctive, the way they responded to each other. Reactive.

But his were also quite deliberate, like the way he was being now. "It's Mon Cal, right?" he asked, like a comedian with a dead audence.

She knew if she had asked him to say nothing, he would. She was fairly confident of that fact, just not the reason why. He might do it for her. Because she was the Princess from the Death Star. Because he thought she was bossy. Maybe because there was something about her he liked.

She was not condoning his behavior, but if there was to be a reason, she chose that one.

Or, it might be to nettle the Alliance. Annoy them with no explanation for why they turned up nine days late except that he was contrary. Leia hoped this was not the case. This was a serious matter, and it was her fault.

He could be exacting his revenge on the Alliance for the shabby treatment they received when they landed at Yavin. He was angry they hadn't put Leia through a med scan. This, while flattering, was not acceptable.

Chewie was putting on an act, too. He stood behind Han. Leia could see the outline of his tensed muscles under his fur. He rumbled threateningly in his throat and pulled his lips back from his teeth. It put the guards on edge, and weapons remained held ready.

She didn't like to see a question go unanswered. Wanting to know the origin of the name for the base was innocent and valid, and the guards were pretending they hadn't heard Han.

"It does mean 'vacation cottage' in Mon Cal," Leia confirmed. She left the impression that she was fluent in Mon Cal, but this was not the case. Her father had shared communiques between Ackbar and himself about Shino-ak.

"Ah!" Han smiled down at her. "Thought so."

"May I ask you a question?" Leia risked more conversation and no one stopped her. "Do you behave like this when you get stopped in the space lanes, or have to go through the Port Authority?"

Han feigned innocence. "Behave like what? Friendly?"

"You have to be praying no one notices the smuggling compartments," Leia said. Then she nodded, thinking she understood him. "I suppose you could bribe officials," she mused, and bent an ear to her shoulder to look at up him sideways. "But that would cut into your precious profit. You'd rather..." and she pretended to study him, "charm them off your ship."

He gave her a different smile. He was enjoying their repartee. That didn't seem to be an act. "Works sometimes," he said.

"And when it doesn't, you have Chewie," Leia surmised, indicating the menacing posture of the Wookiee.

"Something like that."

"How did he get to be your partner?"

Han's fingers twitched at his thigh, indicating the guards. "I'm gonna tell you now?" he said.

Just to herself, Leia smiled. She enjoyed when she could exasperate him. It meant she was better at his own games.

Then she realized it might be their last interaction, and she had to learn to say goodbye. Once they were cleared from the briefing, Leia would depart to assist Mon Mothma, and Han would take off to deliver the rest of the cargo. Then who knew where he would go after that.

She wasn't going to ask him. She found she really didn't want to know; she would act like she didn't care, not if it didn't include... her...

Leia jerked her head again. It sounded- conceited, or something- she didnt mean that. She meant the Alliance, the Rebellion, following up after the Death Star...

"What did you do with the Medal of Bravery?" she said suddenly.

"Huh? The- oh. It's on the ship. In my quarters."

Leia nodded. That was a satisfactory answer. An honest one.

The scan crew was starting to emerge from the ship, and sure enough one was carrying Luke's poncho.

She stepped forward. "Excuse me," she said. "That belongs to a friend of mine. What are you going to do with it?"

The scan tech was a Duro. Shino-ak was the kind of base her father dreamed of one day seeing but Leia was too focused on the poncho to appreciate it. Blue-skinned Duro, aquatic Mon Cal, tusked-furred Bothans, and humans, all living together. It was quite a feat. There weren't many places in the galaxy compatible to so many life forms. Shino-ak had put in a lot of effort. Han and Chewie had pointed out air filters and grav adjuster units to her earlier.

"We're going to put it through a molecular dye scan," the Duro told her, not impolitely. "The unit's not mobile, so we're taking it to the department."

"What's with you and clothing?" Han interrupted to ask Leia.

"You'll get it back," the Duro was still explaining. "Might have a spot of damage where we remove the dye-"

"You're checking for secret messages?" Han sounded disbelieving.

"- but I'll scan where it won't be so visible. What's your friend's name?"

"Luke Skywalker," Leia informed the tech.

"He didn't miss it on Yavin; he ain't gonna miss it now," Han said.

"It's Luke's," Leia said firmly. "Don't involve him."

"I'm not! You're the one puttin' his name-"

"Oh, Commander Skywalker?" the Duro put in.

"You're the one who left it out-" Leia said hotly.

"I don't do housekeeping, Princess-"

"Oh, but you do. The ship is spotless. They're not carrying the blanket I had in the cockpit. You put it away."

"He's a commander now?" Han unexpectedly switched gears and swiveled to face the Duro, the news of Luke finally sinking in. "What do you know."

He and Leia looked at each other. Luke's name, his solidified presence in the Alliance, halted their argument. Luke kept them connected. He was a reminder, even when he wasn't around, of their remarkable start.

"You'll have to call him 'sir' now instead of 'kid'," Leia said with a twist of a smile.

She was thinking back to other times they tried to take leave of one another; she, Luke and Han. She couldn't do it once, and so they found themselves awaiting a briefing now because of it.

Han was shaking his head. "Think 'kid' will slip out a few times," he drawled with a shy grin.

And the other time- Luke had been the one upset. But it was Han who couldn't do it. Yes, Leia remembered looking past Luke's shoulder as she'd tried to comfort him. Han was loading his reward while everyone else bustled about prepping for battle. His face was stony. That act, for whatever reasons he did it, had cost him. And he hadn't been able to follow through anyway. He came back.

Luke was the only one who did say goodbye and mean it, in the best way. He'd lost his aunt and uncle but he wasn't afraid of losing Han or Leia. Was it because he never would? He was able to tuck them in his heart and that was enough?

Leia wished she could be like Luke. Sure-hearted.

How would she say goodbye this time? She could do it, she thought. No plan occurred to her. None was needed. No act. Well, maybe a little. She wasn't going to ask Han to come back again. Not even to tell him, with a lilt in her voice, that she was holding him to telling the story of how Chewbacca became his pilot.

Nor would she confess he was important to her. He and Luke, and Chewie especially. Her first three after Alderaan, after the Death Star. She felt like she needed them. She wasn't like Luke. She was lonely, and she couldn't be alone.

Another Duro was approaching, followed by a translator droid. For Chewie's briefing, Leia realized. The guards took several steps backward.

Chewie shuffled forward and jostled Han.

"Not now," Han rolled his eyes.

Could Han do it?

Well, no matter how either felt, they had to do it. Nine days. It was bordering on ridiculous. Maybe they could help each other. And besides, Leia had a feeling it was not the last she was going to see of Han Solo. No matter what he insisted.

The Duro used her title. "If you'll follow me, Princess Organa of Alderaan. Admiral Ackbar would like to speak with you."

Leia nodded at the Duro but was still looking at Han. "This is where we part, Captain Solo," she said formally, and lifted a hand.

He looked down at her hand. His own came up, as if drawn. Whatever he needed, if it was to put on a show, bring her hand to his lips, she would allow it.

"You keep being a Princess," he said.

She smiled openly, because that meant so many things to Han, and the answer delighted her. She covered their clasp with her other hand and gave his a squeeze. His eyes might be saying something, but she had noticed before they were inconsistently beautiful.

She turned to Chewie. The Wookiee didn't want a hug. Instead he was speaking, and his head was bobbing side to side. It took some time, whatever he had to say. It made him even more wonderful, so she smiled at him and turned to follow the Duran officer.

Behind her, the translator droid and Chewie were talking, and a guard was giving Han directions to a conference room. At the hangar door, she turned for a final look. Han was pointing a finger at the droid. "And if that goes in the transcript I'll dismantle you, ya hear? And you shut up, you furry oaf."

Perfect, she thought. And her smile took a while to leave.


	25. Resentment, I

Repentance, II

Mon Mothma was a good friend of the Organa family. The Senator from Chandrila was always welcome on Alderaan. Leia remembered her visits. Her memories are from the mind of a young child, and now they are like emotions, confused and multi-layered. Mon Mothma liked to wear flowing, embroidered tunics and a brightly patterned Chandrillan head scarf wrapped her hair.

She was friendly, with a boisterous laugh, and she always brought something: a bottle of aged brandy or a traditional folk toy for Leia. She talked to Leia as an adult. Perhaps it was the respect due a princess, even one sitting under the table, hopping a stuffed animal around her father's boots and under his pant cuff, while her parents and Mon Mothma talked.

The times darkened, and visits turned into secret meetings, or coded correspondence from afar. Leia's father worried for Mon Mothma, she knew, as each kept a tally of the Senators that disappeared from the leadership of the Rebellion.

"No one retires from this," her father had commented once.

Leia had nodded in mute agreement, all the while trying to find an example that would contradict him, that would have her and him standing at the end.

When Leia looked at Mon Mothma now, seated on the other side of a desk, she saw a survivor. Untouched, alive. It was no matter Mon Mothma lived on the run, that she had escaped sabotage and an assassination attempt. The white robe, a nod to the Senators of old, seemed a misplaced martyrdom, the colors and patterns gone, and Leia held herself aloof, eyes colored with resentment.

Mon Mothma had said in her holomessage, "I want to grab you up in a hug," but they didn't. Now, after some time has passed, there is an office, and a desk and chairs and Mon Mothma is on one side, and Leia the other.

The fault was Time's, Leia decided. Then, when it was fresh, when it was pure sadness and loneliness and fear, she had put her arm around Luke's shoulders and she could comfort him. And she was comforting herself, too. "There wasn't anything you could have done," she told them, Luke and herself. "There wasn't anything you could have done." How she wanted to believe that!

Mixed in with the sadness of seeing each other again there are facts. There is the fact that Leia did not arrive on her arranged transport but much later. There is the fact that Mon Mothma is the Minister of War, and Bail Organa might be too, but now there is just his young daughter, who had been a courier of information and gotten caught. There is the unbelievable weight of loss, the great number of dead, and there is the fact of the changed shape of the galaxy, and the knowledge that humans on both sides share their own responsibility.

"Leia," Mon Mothma started the conversation. That was all she said. Mon had watched her grow up, Leia reflected. From the toddler under the table, her father's boots a playworld, to... now, where it felt like growth stopped.

Leia waited, and looked around. The office was sparsely furnished; a desk and things on it. The chair beside Leia was empty. That was how things were to be now, she knew.

She had left Shino-ak, the only passenger on a small shuttle, after meeting with Admiral Ackbar. The _Falcon _was still in the hangar but there was no sign of Han or Chewie.

Once she had lost a stuffed toy, she suddenly remembered. Maybe being in front of Mon Mothma spurred the memory. She and her parents were about to leave, from somewhere to somewhere; that part was vague. She was on Alderaan, because she remembered the ship; it was a blue atmo craft. Her mother was at first understanding and patient, and they went through the luggage together but the toy was not packed. It was the velvet purple one with large ears, Leia remembered. Her mother let her look but then it was time to go, and no one would take her back to other places she might have left it, and she had cried.

What had caused little Leia's tears, her older self wondered. In her memory, she was crying for the toy. It would be alone, she told her mother. It would think she didn't want it anymore. "I didn't mean to lose it," she had sniffled, her little heart broken.

She thought now it would have been better to cry for herself.

It felt odd, to depart on something other than the _Falcon. _Leia reflected on her first impression of the freighter. "That," she had named Han's ship while on the Death Star. _You came in that. _The shuttle was clean, in excellent condition, and as Leia boarded, she whispered a private joke like she and the _Falcon_ were telepaths, "I'm leaving on that."

Her briefing had been anticlimactic. Probably it was worse for Han and Chewie. Admiral Ackbar didn't even bother going through the motions. She had been brought before him, a princess before an admiral, at the request of the Minister of War. Deep down, she recognized an unfairness. Her personal acquaintance with the Minister, her title... she was being accorded favors no one would consider for Han.

Admiral Ackbar was busy with a command to worry about, but when the Minister of War asked for something, she got it. He pursed his lips and opened them at her from under his water respiratory unit that encased his head. His large and bulbous eyes were kind.

"The Minister is concerned about you," he said. Having to travel through water made his voice fuzzy.

"I don't need concern," Leia told him. "I apologize for causing your crew to take these extra precautions but it is a simple explanation. I missed my transport," she hedged, "and since I was the only passenger aboard the _Millennium Falcon _I asked Captain Solo if he would take me to the Graveyard of Alderaan. It is true the trip was a personal excursion. We were gone so long because it is some distance away."

"There's discussion of disciplinary review," the Admiral warned her.

Leia wanted to laugh. She did, in her head, and she wondered if she were hysterical. "Of course," she agreed, though she shook her head no, and wanted to shout and sweep things off his desk, _I may be a princess but here I am nothing!_

That was all Ackbar wanted with her. He told Leia he would report to the Minister and asked her to step outside and give a statement of how she passed the last nine days to an aide. It would be used to verify the information Han and Chewie provided. Within an hour, she was on the shuttle to Mon Mothma's location, and it took six hours' travel.

She tried to sleep, but found it eluded her. She stared at the upholstery of the seat in front of her, and wondered if Luke had found sleep yet. For some reason- maybe it was Mon Mothma and all she associated with her: the Rebellion, her father- she kept going back to her failure of the mission. The questions Darth Vader asked her under interrogation. Tarkin's elegant manners and shiny fingernails. Vader's fingers on her shoulders, which took some of the pain away from what was happening to Alderaan because he squeezed so hard.

She rubbed her collarbone with the tip of her own finger, and thought there was still some sensation of bruise. What was it? Nine days with Han, two- was it two on Yavin?- And how long to there from the Death Star. Less than two weeks, she figured.

His grip was like steel fingers. Vader hadn't expected the Death Star to be used, Leia guessed. Someday, yes; but not as a demonstration. Ben heard a million voices, Luke told her. Vader must have heard them, too. He squeezed her shoulders so he wouldn't faint.

What kind of effect would that leave on a being? She hoped he still heard the voices.

The secret location of the Minister had no name. "They are never named," someone answered when she asked. She had no idea what local time it was. It seemed the Minister of War's office didn't stop for day or night, but Mon had to sleep at some point. Leia had been taken to see her right away.

Mon Mothma finally spoke again. "Are you all right," she said. "Is there anything I can do."

Mon's voice fell wearily, as if it was too hard to inflect a questioning tone, or if they were questions she knew Leia wouldn't be able to answer them.

Because there was no answer. Instead Leia returned it to Mon. "What is there to do?" and held up her two empty hands.

_Yes, what could you do_, Leia thought. Nothing that was real, or possible. Change the cast of characters? Put the weight of loss on someone else. Turn back time? How far back would you need to go? Tell the planet to never exist, so no one has to lose it.

It gave her a special strength, to realize this. It was her and Alderaan. She wouldn't want anyone else to go through this, so she began to settle into it. If that was what they were really talking about, she would tell Mon, "It is mine."

"But Leia," Mon had to know, "how did you come to miss the transport? We were all quite beside ourselves. I thought I had lost you all over again."

Leia peered at Mon. _Lost you all over again? _ "How could-"

"We just didn't know. You weren't there to tell us. We had to make up answers ourselves, and some we didn't like."

_Get cold feet? _was Han's guess, and she'd been standing right in front of him.

The thought that she had made them fret, when no such intention had crossed her mind, had Leia feel some misgiving. But then, to be the topic of discussion, of their doubt and questions, when to her it was all so clear, disturbed her. "What do you mean?"

Mon spread her palms helplessly. "If you didn't show, we had to ask, why would you miss your transport? Why would you stay behind?"

"Why indeed," Leia wondered aloud sharply. "Really, Mon-"

"It seemed we couldn't separate the chaos of what happened earlier from your absence on a transport. Like it was all part of the same event. And the timing, with the ships all going different distances; we couldn't raise them while they were in transit, and the chaos continued. We just didn't know."

"What happened earlier?" Leia quoted, bristling. "You mean my arrest?" She was brisk. "They were days apart. There was a victory in between." Leia learned forward and said with bitter irony, "I won't say I'm sorry, Mon. But I didn't mean-"

Mon's eyes didn't blink. "A complete state of shock," she said, and Leia wondered who she was talking about. "You told the captain you fell asleep?"

Apparently, Han had repeated her bald-faced excuse to him in his briefing. The fact pleased her. "I arranged my own transportation," Leia said calmly.

"Why would he lie?" Mon wondered.

"Maybe I'm the one who lied," Leia said.

"Oh, Leia," Mon dismissed the idea, and Leia fell silent.

It wasn't just Time, Leia thought. It was Humans. And she thought anyone would forgive her right now for not liking them much. Humans, discounting words, coming from a princess because she wouldn't, coming from a smuggler because they expected it.

"Is he..."

"Mon," Leia chastised.

"All right," Mon Mothma relented, and took to staring at Leia with a mixture of pity and wonder. Leia listened to the sounds that hummed outside the office. Sounds of war. Not blasters or proton torpedoes or Darth Vader's loud respirator, but brisk, efficient noises.

"You'll be happy to know the Core Treaty Consortium has condemned astral bombs and laser technology," Mon continued, her fingers fidgeting with a stack of data files on her desk.

The CTC was formed eighty years ago, after the Inner Core Wars. In concept it was a neutral territory used to negotiate treaties, try crimes of war, and attempt to guide worlds on the proper way to wage war. It held itself separate from any government, so in this age of the Galactic Empire, it remained indissoluble from Palpatine.

"Happy isn't really the word, Mon," Leia said.

"No. I suppose it isn't. But somehow-" Mon broke off, frowning. "Something good must arise from this, or that we must find something. And in the light of what happened, that we as a species understand what is right, and what is really a sacrilege... at least we won't see technology like the Death Star put to use again."

_In the light of this_... it was better than the way that general had put it. _Hopefully a wake up call_... Mon was always a good orator. But nothing good would ever come of it. Banning weapons was reactionary common sense; it shouldn't need to be done in the first place.

"Astral bombs," Leia murmured thoughtfully. "That's what Palpatine hit Corellia with."

"Twenty years ago." Mon was always precise. "One of his first acts as Emperor. You were just a baby. He explained to the galaxy Corellia earned his fury." Mon's eyes left Leia and circled around the things on the desk. "He promised us a secure society. Ended the Clone Wars, and then six months later bombed Corellia.

"Did you ever wonder, Leia, if our modern technology makes it easier for us to kill. We are removed from the act itself. We push a button, and don't even have to watch the bomb fall."

"He promised himself his own society," Leia put in.

Mon agreed with a nod. "I doubt he bears any responsibility."

"No. The victims do."

"Yes. A deranged, sick man rises to power and we react in civil war." Mon's inner thoughts caused her eyes to widen. "In a way I'm surprised we haven't already won. I'm surprised he's still in power. That we only have a portion of the galaxy's support. How can- after this, after Alderaan- how can everyone not see him as we do?"

"For some, allegiance is a job. For others, it's in the heart. We won't reach those. And he has a navy."

"There have been defections. Some quite high ranking."

Leia lifted her head. "Can we trust them? I mean, are they defecting for the right reason?"

Mon Mothma let out one short note of her former laugh. "Vetting them is complex. As you say, when it's a matter of the heart... TRAD has offered their assistance."

"How?"

Mon waved a hand. "Even they say a psychoanalysis can be false, given proper training. But a glimpse into the character of a being might hint at a defector's motivations." She waved her hand again. "It can't hurt."

"I suppose not."

The women fell silent, each following separate trains of thought. Leia was thinking of Dr. Renzatl. Mon Mothma was still on the Emperor and his crimes, for when she resumed speaking, she said, "The bombs will be brought to the CTC storage facility once they are located."

"Why aren't they there now?" Leia asked. "Why has it taken them twenty years to condemn them?"

"At the time, they rested on the reassurances of Palpatine and a signed Imperial pledge there were no more bombs in existence, and that there would be no more. Palpatine allowed inspections of weapons manufacturing plants. However, a recent investigation turned up half a dozen in the basement of a cultural resource center."

Leia's face screwed up in puzzled amazement. "What?"

Mon was nodding at her. "Exactly what I said."

Leia shook her head. "He'll continue to lie. And anyway it won't do much good. The knowledge will always be there," she said. "For laser technology too. We've witnessed it; it's burned in our collective experience. Who is to say someone won't resurrect the technology at a later time?"

"Palpatine is charged with war crimes. Of course, they aren't going to get their hands on him. If we win, my aim would be to use that collective experience, rebuild our values so that we- not just as a people, but as a galaxy- cannot even entertain the thought of using such weapons."

"A societal taboo," Leia murmured. Her thoughts drifted to Luke. Palpatine had been successful in building the attitude that the Jedi were greedy, power hungry predators, so that when he came to power no one objected to the Order's annhilation. Luke was in danger, she realized. Not just while war waged, but afterwards.

"War has changed," Mon Mothma said. "Leaders no longer rely on an army to win. They hit the populace until life becomes unbearable, or worse, and it's the civilians who are forced to surrender."

Leia remained silent and waited. She knew Mon fairly well and of course shared similar political views. Mon was building a pitch. She had alluded to as much in the holomessage.

"Refugees are beginning to reach out," Mon told her. "They need our help. I won't let them surrender."

Leia nodded, thinking of the term surrender. There was no more Alderaan. It was a condition the refugees were forced to accept, herself included, and that was a surrender. So Mon was wrong but Leia said nothing.

"I have to remember that you, too, are a refugee," Mon said, looking at Leia with brimming eyes. She looked for so long it was becoming a stare, and Leia squirmed uncomfortably.

Mon shook herself. "We have a territory," she continued. "It was scouted previously as a possible base. The CTC said they would send a peace guard to protect it, should the Empire decide it must be part of the war.

"It's nothing like Alderaan; nothing would be," she said. "But it should be safe. And it's a place for the refugees to feel safe. Dr. Renzatl- you've met her-"

Leia nodded, feeling uncooperative. "TRAD."

"Yes. She will have an office there, and a staff."

"Do we know how many?" Leia asked.

"Three coun-"

"Not staff. Alderaani."

"No." Mon shook her head. "Not at this time. We are asking for Alderaani embassies on every world system to offer asylum."

This course of action was obvious, and Leia nodded. "Some won't come," she said.

"Yes, it's possible," Mon allowed. "I'm most concerned for those living in Imperial City on Coruscant."

Leia was surprised at herself for not thinking the same. Really, gathering refugees was not unlike looking out at the Graveyard, and why hadn't she been consumed with that idea? Instead she had bought candles.

"It's a moon's moon," Mon was going on. "As I said earlier, it had been scouted. The Alliance rejected it as a possible base. It is too wet, apparently."

"Too wet how?"

"I haven't been there," Mon said briskly. "I've been assured it will work as a territory of residence for a small population. The Alliance- well, everyone is entirely unprepared for something like this. When Corellia was bombed, and then the siege of Po'oppero- unfortunately just two examples- those world governments handled the displacement crises themselves. The Alderaani have no one to turn to. Not Aldera, and not Coruscant, for it turned on them."

Leia thought of those like her. In her mind, they beseeched her, palms out, the same as the Alderaani couple who asked Leia to help locate their son. Would they understand why she went to Datooine instead of the new base? Would they make up answers as Mon Mothma had?

_S__he's not answering her comm because _\- and it hit her. Her father was dead.

All the little thoughts swirling about him went away and she reeled a bit. Mon was watching her. "They still have a Princess," Leia struggled softly. "The refugees."

"Yes," Mon beamed. "I was hoping you'd say that. Your father- in fact, Alderaan-"

"Yes," Leia interrupted. Her voice suddenly sharpened. She would not allow Mon Mothma to describe her homeworld. Not when she was present to do it. "Alderaan had a Recovery Corp. We sent food, supplies and equipment to areas stricken by natural disaster or war. We allowed for refugees to enter, for shelter. They could even become citizens."

Mon's voice was hushed and thick with tears. "The Recovery Corp was noble. Your mother," she managed to get out, "such an example of grace and generosity. She'd be so worried for you. I'd like you to take up the mantle" she gently hinted. "Be the beacon of hope."

"On this moon within a moon?" Leia didn't mean to sound skeptical. She was reacting to Mon's praise of her mother, who was dead. It was easy to gloss over one's qualities when they were no longer alive, wasn't it. Was her mother, once a good friend to Mon Mothma, now a saint? A caricature of all she used to be?

_Take up the mantle..._ Mon didn't think Leia was up to her mother's standards, did she, Leia thought. And not because she was a princess and not the queen. Because she hadn't boarded the correct transport.

"But Leia." Mon hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She folded her hands together, except for the forefingers, and she tapped the tips four times. "I know you are their Princess. You must bear their loss, too. That is a difficult burden, coupled with your own. Add to that what happened to you on the Death Star, and recently..."

Mon Mothma paused and Leia was irritated she wouldn't let the matter of being overdue drop. "I'd like you- I want to make sure you take part in the services you arrange for your people. It is our policy, but embrace it on your own. Make use of TRAD. Dr. Renzatl has seen you once. We were talking, when we didn't know where you were-"

Leia felt her cheeks flush. "I saw her for thirty minutes."

"Yes, she told me."

_Told you? _Leia wondered. What was that supposed to mean?

"I hear it in your voice, Leia. You'll tell me a leader holds herself above, must be strong; you'll quote me the Senate oath, won't you?" Mon was looking at her with a curious sad smile.

"It's true."

"It is. Yes. But it is also true that you are more than a Princess. You are a young woman who has suffered an unbelievable loss."

"So has everyone else."

"And they will be part of TRAD."

"I hear what you're saying, Mon. But, I'm- I'm- I'll be able to handle this. The transport: I asked Captain Solo to take me where I could obtain candles for the Month of Flame. That wasn't one of the answers to the questions you asked yourselves, was it? You should have asked, is the Princess arranging to mark the loss-"

"You could have told us, Leia. You could have suggested it to us. You could have informed us you were going. Instead-"

"It was for the refugees," Leia mumbled, her voice small. "We brought back almost ten full cases-"

"I can order you if I have to, Leia. I don't want to. But now that you've told me about the purchase, I'll be sure the cases are loaded off that freighter and brought to the moon."

Leia's upper lip sucked into her teeth. "Or you could just have that freighter bring them."

"Yes." Mon looked at Leia sharply. "Where did it come from, that freighter? You seem very attached to it."

"What do you mean?" Leia asked, flinching. "The ship?-"

"It just appeared at the Death Star," Mon Mothma wondered. "It all seems so unreal," she continued, her voice mostly a whisper. "Your capture. I called your father, you know."

Leia's eyes dropped. "I knew he was told. Not that it was you."

"And we were set, to grieve. To have it in our minds that you were gone. I was preparing to go to Alderaan." Mon nodded at Leia's amazed expression. "Yes. Sneak out of hiding for you. For Bail. I was enroute when..."

Leia wondered if Mon Mothma had experienced what the _Millennium Falcon _had. "Were you close?"

Mon shook her head. "No. We always make at least four evasive hyper jumps to be sure we're not followed. And then General Dodonna hailed me, with this rapid fire story. Your surprise appearance at Yavin, with the plans no less, and the battle set to go. But your rescue! Out of the blue!"

"Yes," Leia looked at her own hands folded in her lap. "For me, too."

"To hear of some random ship... It was like divine intervention."

Leia remembered again, _You came in that? _and then applied the idea of divine intervention, which gave her a private smile.

Mon paused, gathering her thoughts. "Is it true you contacted General Kenobi? The Jedi Knight?"

Leia nodded again. She exhaled deeply, feeling a tension leave her at the change in subject. At least she wouldn't be asked to explain herself anymore.

"And you said in the briefing your father had told you his location. How- how did Bail know?"

"I don't know."

"I was on Coruscant when the Republic fell. I was in the Senate chambers when Palpatine declared himself Emperor. What he said about the Jedi... I was unaware any survived."

Evidently Mon was bothered by the detail of a hidden Jedi, which gave Leia a mote of satisfaction.

"My father often told me of the Fall," Leia said. "He said he had gone to the Jedi Temple, before Palpatine's speech, to see if he could help. And he was threatened by clone troopers. Maybe he met some there."

Mon shook her head. "I doubt it. Darth Vader led the attack himself. Even for the Jedi, they were completely overwhelmed."

"Did you know him?"

"Darth Vader? No. No one seems to know much about him. Palpatine recruited... well, I don't know what to call them. One day Darth Vader was there, introduced as his second in command. It's interesting, because no one can place Vader at the temple, but all say he was there. You would think his appearance would be memorable." Mon shuddered. "That awful helmet."

"It's a respirator," Leia informed her, empowered by her first hand knowledge of Vader. "But I meant if you knew General Kenobi."

"Oh." Mon was pulled from the past. "I may have met him. The Jedi worked closely with the Senate but generally not socially. And during the Clone Wars, they were very taxed."

"Was he..." Leia shook her head rapidly, trying to come up with the proper description. "... special? That he could do all that? Survive, and flee, and know my father?"

"He was a Jedi," Mon said, smiling at Leia's words. "But I don't know that he was any more special than another Jedi. If I recall, his partner was Anakin Skywalker."

Luke's father, Leia thought to herself. "He had his partner's lightsaber with him on Tatooine," she told Mon. "He gave it to Luke."

"I understood that from the young man's briefing," Mon said. "He was in training?"

"Oddly, no," Leia said. "Luke said he knew of him all his life. General Kenobi must have fled to Tatooine after the Fall. But he never mentioned anything to Luke about the Force or training him until Luke brought him my call for help."

"That is odd."

"I think my father must have known all that time where he was."

"When did he share the general's contact info with you?"

"Only a couple of years ago," Leia answered. "When I started passing information."

"It is curious," Mon said. "I wonder what he did on Tatooine for all those years. He didn't... assist Bail? In any way?

"Not that I know of."

"And to have the company of smugglers to call on at the ready..."

"No," Leia disagreed. "The ship _is_ divine intervention. I like how you put that. Maybe intervention of the Force. Luke said they went to port to charter a ship. I don't believe he had made Captain Solo's acquaintance previously."

"Hm." Mon's fingertips were tapping her desk now. "I'd like to know how many others escaped the Fall."

"It's likely more than one survived," Leia agreed.

"If we could somehow reach them," Mon daydreamed. "A Jedi presence would be of great value to the Alliance."

"Yes," Leia said. It would help Luke, she added to herself.

Mon seemed to shake herself. "Well, obviously Bail did make arrangements with at least one. He never told me though..." her voice trailed off. "I wonder why."

"Probably for the Jedi's protection," Leia reasoned. "The more that knew, the more at risk of discovery."

"Yes, but in that regard I was the same as your father," Mon insisted. "I would never reveal-"

"You would if you came under arrest," Leia said.

"Did you? You were arrested."

"They didn't question me about that. They were focused on the plans."

"You didn't reveal that, either, Leia," Mon said softly, looking grieved. She shook her head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Interrogation."

"I'm not," Leia said, and it was true. "We knew of the risks."

"Yes. Yes, we did. And your father did, too. His reaction, Leia, when I told him, was for you. Not for the mission."

"He didn't want me to do it," Leia said softly.

"I know he didn't," Mon's tone was tender. "Dr. Renzatl asked me to share this with you-"

_No one retires from this. _"I don't want the details."

"But you'll want his love."

Leia had to look at the corner of the desk. Her jaw was clenched and she was trying to be angry with Mon Mothma for not being the target of the laser, for being alive when her father wasn't. She started bouncing her knee rapidly, remembering her father's boot and cuff the little stuffed toy made a playground of, Mon Mothma ducking down to see, the tails of her headscarf dangling.

Her father wanted her to be safe. He accepted that opposing Palpatine might kill him, but he couldn't bear the same for his own daughter.

This was notable, somehow. Leia blocked Mon Mothma's voice out. It was about futures, she decided. Hers, and the galaxy's. Alderaan's. But her father was mixed up. He was separating love and fear from justice and right, and that was a mistake.

She wouldn't do the same.

There was a touch at her elbow, and Leia gave a start. She hadn't heard the conversation come to a close. She hadn't noticed Mon Mothma rise, or come to the other side of the desk and touch her elbow.

"I won't keep you," Mon was saying. A crumpled tissue peeked from the gaps of her loose fist. Her expression was odd, like all she wanted to do was keep Leia.

"If there is anything, Leia- I know there isn't, but if there is," Mon Mothma broke off before trying again. "I'm here, Leia. I feel like it's not enough, but also that it's all I have."

"We have the war," Leia said softly, rising.

"And isn't that a terrible thing."

It was a platitude, Leia decided, a conclusion to their conversation, but it made her curious. "Are you sorry for it? You and my father worked for so long."

Mon's voice came behind Leia as she escorted her to the door. "I am more convinced than ever the Empire needs to end. I am... gratified, I suppose is the word, that everything regarding the formation of the Alliance has fallen into place. I am sorry for... for the way the war has been waged." Mon rested her hand on the door jamb. "I am not sure, however, that a victory will ease the pain."

Half-heartedly, because she didn't think it was possible, and she needed a conclusion so she could leave, Leia said, "We'll ask ourselves when we have it."

"Yes." Mon Mothma wasn't ready to consider it yet. "Dr. Renzatl is expecting you, Leia. Please go see her."


	26. Aspects, II

Leia was given directions how to get from Mon Mothma's office to Dr. Renzatl's.

The polite major had started out in specific detail. "From here, go down- I believe it's eight doorways, turn right at that corridor, to the end, then left. You'll see the tubes. The center one is for even-numbered floors; don't ask me why they designed it that way. Take it to the second." Then the major got fuzzier in detail. "You should find her there."

Should, and there- it was vague, as if the doctor was an unknown entity, haphazardly occupying space. Mon Mothma's office occupied the entire fourth floor. Perhaps TRAD held the second. Leia asked.

The major, still polite, had returned to his task. He shook his head. "TRAD's not here, Your Highness. We don't us the second floor much."

"Oh," Leia said, still confused. She waited a bit, to see if Mon had ordered someone to escort her, or if someone would volunteer to do so. Everyone remained busy with something so she left. Out in the corridor, which must be sound-proofed, as all office noises suddenly cut off, Leia thought she was being neglected. She had an impulse to go back in.

She wanted to test them. "Doesn't anyone realize the last time you told me to go somewhere I didn't?" But she stayed outside the door, in the quiet. Already she'd forgotten what the major had said. And he must not be good at giving directions. There was a mention of doors, and they stretched ahead of Leia like tiny city blocks, but also behind her, their flow interrupted by perpendicular corridors. It must look like a grid, Leia thought, from a bird's eye view. Doors were behind and ahead of her.

"From here," the polite major said where to start. Leia _should_ go back in. Left or right, she needed to know. Something like that, a choice; it could be important, like a moment of destiny. To take up arms or not. To name Dantooine or somewhere else.

Now that she thought of it, just what god's idea of funny was this, for the fourth floor had the eerie layout and efficiency of the Death Star.

She wished she did have an escort. Not the polite major. Even Darth Vader had provided an escort of himself and two prison guards when he made her leave her cell. She figured they were taking her to her execution. The escort was probably for security purposes, but Leia remembered feeling sort of... satisfied, that they flanked her; that, in with the resignation and pride and even willingness to die as punishment, she wouldn't be alone.

That was important, Leia thought as she turned left- that was the way out of the cell block on the Death Star- and started counting doors. If a god of irony had decided to play with one's mortal life, it was best to have someone alongside.

Luke, she thought. She would like him along. They could discuss whether a god of irony was actually the Force while they wound their way through the corridors together as they had on the Death Star.

The Force, he would say, though the only evidence he had was in his own body; he'd only just learned of it from General Kenobi. Leia grew up with the concept of gods. The mythology of Alderaan was full of them; the number of maidens was in direct relation to the number of goddesses who created the planet. Alderaani often said, "May the Force be with you," but it was viewed as a galaxy-wide phenomenon.

At that, he hadn't escorted her from the cell, Leia suddenly remembered. He had freed her, true, but when he mentioned General Kenobi she had dashed past him. He'd wanted to take the lead, still talking. "Come on!" he'd urged, but she was already out the door.

By herself, she had turned left and run. Behind her was a dead end, and ahead was smoke and noise from a firefight. A helmetless stormtrooper was returning fire. It was a jarring sight, she remembered.

"Can't get out that way," the man in trooper armor directed his speech to Luke as he caught up to Leia. It turned out to be her first meeting with Han.

Too bad he couldn't escort her, but he turned out to be just as bad at Luke at rescuing Princesses. They would probably argue about the number of doors the polite major recited. "Eight down the corridor," Leia would say. Han would shake his head, maybe even shoot at one to express his frustration. "On each side of the corridor. Four."

He'd brought her to the Graveyard, at least. But that didn't qualify as escort. He was a pilot. Somehow that meant the route was only the pilot's; the destination was the passenger's. Han's ship was merely the way to get there. Leia knew what Luke would say. "It's still the Force."

She missed the Graveyard. She missed its stillness and infinity. She missed knowing and being known.

Vader's escort brought her to the bridge of the Death Star, where Grand Moff Tarkin was waiting to speak with her. Vader hadn't said a word to her. The god of irony- and truth, she supposed- had turned mean. All the while, the god knew, but he toyed with her; what a fool the god made her look in front of Tarkin. She was regal and tart and everything was so clear to her.

Except what was about to happen.

"You're far too trusting," Tarkin had told her.

She was. There was a transparisteel window, much larger than the one in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ but she told herself not to look. There was a crew, machinery, Vader still breathing behind her, but she didn't see, she didn't listen. Tarkin's threat was real; that's why the Rebels had stolen the plans. In the hands of madmen...

Even when she named Dantooine, she didn't think he would. It was a war game. Why- Why destroy a place that lived? Why make one's Empire smaller? He wouldn't use the Death Star on Dantooine. They would search, as the Empire always did, and maybe in angry retaliation find a lifeless moon and show the galaxy how merciful the Empire was if the galaxy toed the line...

_You're far too trusting._ Darth Vader's breathing was a slow motion pant. His steely fingers pressed into her so hard and she missed the pain, because it was soothing. Even if it was the million voices, his grip was a warning, or a consolation, and she had to stop in the middle of the corridor because she hadn't sensed the truth of this yet: It was him and her, Tarkin over there. He kept her from moving, and they watched, together.

Leia shook her head once hard, dismissing the vocalized thought. He should have killed Tarkin. He should have let her go so she could try.

Her hands were fists and she resumed walking. It was eight doors; she'd remembered correctly. The lift tube yawned empty before her, but Leia reared away from it.

Stairs. She preferred stairs. She would go on her own. Her direction. She would not leave her fate inside some tube to take her up or down, to cede her own ability-

Surprised at herself, at the flutters of her heart, of any small sympathy toward Darth Vader, Leia made herself peer in. Would she ride it if someone else was with her? She'd done well against Vader, she told herself, and that was true, too. He was powerful in rank, powerful with the Force, and his mission failed worse than hers.

Her eyes went to the ceiling. If only he'd been on the Death Star...

Gods, it made her sick. At its core, the Rebellion was about disapproval, and more. Seeing a wrong and trying to right it. Her actions had resulted in the Empire becoming smaller...

If it could just be one thing, not both. A tragedy or a triumph. A victory and not a loss.

For _him_ to realize it, Tarkin. For him to... to celebrate her weakness, to broadcast it, so that Mon could no longer trust her with responsibility-

It always came back to that moment. It was her portrait.

She backed off from the tube again, and looked around to locate a doorway at the end of a hallway. Her mind followed its own path, free flowing so it felt safe. Entropy, Leia thought.

She did have a number of portraits done, Leia knew. Most of them were blown to smithereens. She was seated or standing, and she wore the junior crown and her mother's necklace. Next to her on a table would be the Cloth of Origin, the original text of Alderaan's mythology, so old; a gavel; and a medallion showing the insignia of the Old Republic. The objects were supposed to represent Leia's office and character. Just, reasoned, royal.

The last Princess of Alderaan needed a new one, Leia thought bitterly. No crown, no jewelry. Only her Death Star gown. On the table the medallion would be turned over, Palpatine's face on the reverse, a small pile of ashes. The gavel would be the only thing to remain the same. The artist could add flares of light in the window behind her.

It was a sideways shift, to put all her conflicts in the tube. She was now terrified of small spaces, but her head felt a little clearer. Earlier, she had wanted to re-enter Mon's office and- like hyperspace, words came at her and dissolved in might. After their conversation, Leia had felt a pity and disappointment. The pity angered her but the disappointment might have been hers. Or it was passed back and forth, like sharing a flask.

"Yes, Leia?" She imagined how Mon would look up from her data tablet if Leia reappeared. "What is it?"

And Leia's mouth would open, ready to accuse, to whine, words like medscan and wake up call, and Mon would only hear a scream.

Leia was radioactive, disintegrating in sequences of a half-life. It was toxic and exhausting, and an ennui was settling in, the kind where a being recognizes the hole they have dug for themselves but don't quite know how to pull themselves out. Viewing the Graveyard was a step. Being able to leave it was another. It was hers but she didn't belong. That's what it had taught her. She wasn't dead. Her father was, but she wasn't. When she eventually found Dr. Renzatl's office, she could helpfully declare, "I've got an aspect now!"

_I gave you a hero who couldn't rescue you. I gave you a home you had to destroy. I took the life of the villain you wanted to kill the most,_ the god of irony and truth informed her.

A hero who couldn't rescue her? Leia considered as she went down a flight of stairs. But Luke did, she answered the god. So what if he needed her help. The other two statements she wasn't ready to argue yet, but- rest assured, she told the god- she would. She was a princess, and she had once been very good at it.

A nondescript door was at the end of a landing. It was manual, in case of emergency, and Leia opened it and stepped out onto the second floor. It was the same as the fourth, lots of doors and hallways, only this level was painted green. The polite major was correct; the Office of the Minister of War didn't seem to use it much. The doors had plastic slots to attach a temporary name. War rooms, Leia thought. She started along the perimeter, looking for one labeled recovery.

She didn't bring the memory of Luke or Han to accompany her. Looking back, she was charmed by them; they were so surprised and dismayed at their own trouble. Darth Vader hadn't bothered with them; they were amateurs. _She_ had posed the real challenge, and she brought Vader along, because he'd been there when Alderaan blew, his fingers hard and understanding.


	27. Observations, VII

It was light acts of routine- sweeping the sonic over her teeth, for instance- that found Albrina Renzatl thinking of Princess Leia.

She would stand in front of the reflector, listening to the buzz of the cleaner, and think_ the Princess didn't pack a sonic._

At least, not that Albrina knew.

It was a crooked parallel, a stowaway Princess and a stranded doctor.

Albrina had been lied to before; that was not unusual. Often her clients didn't even realize they were lying to themselves, so she didn't mind. But this level of deception, if that's what this was...

"Deliberate," is how she described the Princess to the Minister.

And she cast her memory back to Yavin's hangar, when she had turned at the sound of her name to see the young Princess holding out her hand, a polite and tentative smile on her face.

"We should meet before we leave, don't you think?" the Princess had said.

Albrina had enjoyed their discussion. Right now she felt a little used, but the Princess's active questions about the effect of war on lasting mental health made the doctor feel- well, engaged was the only word for it. She didn't recall the exact conversation, but the doctor had received the distinct impression they were not supposed to be traveling together.

She was mistaken. Deliberate, indeed.

And so Albrina arrived and the Princess did not. The doctor's delayed voyage to the moon of Buteral was explained on the second day, when the Minister of War informed her Princess Leia was missing.

The Minister, a busy woman, was worried enough that she took the time to update Dr. Renzatl daily. Albrina's comm would ding late at night, and she would wake to read a text from Mon Mothma, _no new information, _and she would think about the Minister waiting, hoping until the day gave out, and then waking to hope some more.

It wasn't a matter of obtaining information about the Princess. When they had it on that freighter, that's when they would learn what happened to her. Or more likely, what the Princess had engineered. Albrina repeated this to the Minister several times.

When the Minister sent a text that the freighter had reached Shino-ak and the Princess was safe, Dr. Renzatl taped her name to the door of an unused conference room on the second floor, had some equipment brought in, and waited.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Follow-up after CBA (as yet incomplete) Patient 20236

Princess Leia did not evacuate according to plan at Yavin. She boarded not her ordered transport, but the same freighter that whisked her away from the Death Star. Nine days later she has finally arrived, after numerous unanswered attempts to contact her. General Dodonna terms it as a failure to obey orders and goes even so far as to suggest she was absent without leave. The Minister of War wishes to be apprised of Princess Leia's capacity to assume duty.

So many have involved themselves in her case. It wouldn't surprise me if Luke Skywalker, at whatever base he is stationed, had somehow heard she was missing.

It is not my job to interpret her disappearance, or to explain it to those interested. Of course she is the one who made the decision to leave, yet I recognize that the Alliance may be a contributing factor. The captain of the freighter is an outsider. Perhaps it is more fair to say he is not enlisted. What this means for the Princess is that, once his deliveries are finished, he will eventually leave. If Princess Leia has placed her trust with him we need to help her develop it elsewhere.

I stood when she entered the conference room. I had arranged for water and kaf to be brought in and offered her some. She selected water. I said nothing in observance that she still wore her Death Star gown. Its only significance may be in that she has nothing else to wear, as her uniforms were sent ahead to the refugee moon.

I thought she looked tired, a little cross. She mentioned that Mon Mothma had sent her to see me and asked if this was General Dodonna's disciplinary review.

It was bitter humor, but I pretended to take it literally. I shook my head. "TRAD has nothing at all to do with violations or evaluations. With all this concern you must feel as if you are being pulled in different directions," I said.

She shrugged. "They want to win the war. So do I." In her voice I detected something, resentment and disappointment. "But I'm not some ghost, returned from the dead. I'm not some little girl who can't follow directions."

"So you feel they are misinformed about you." I sat, and gestured for the Princess to do the same.

She only rested a hand on the back of her chair. "Mon Mothma told me she spoke to you about me." This time I detected a tiny bit of accusation and mistrust in her voice.

"She did," I admitted. "She was worried. I'm afraid I did little to allay her fears."

"She's your superior," Princess Leia said.

I nodded. "She's everyone's," I smiled at her. "Even if I knew what was on her mind or General Dodonna's, it would remain completely separate from anything you might tell me has been on your mind, Your Highness."

It was in my notes that I had already covered the purpose of TRAD, its mission statement, and the importance of safeguarding a client's privacy with her, but I took the time to go over it again. "My role is that of a guide," I reminded Princess Leia. "But I am with you every step of the way."

I cocked my head at my own words. Actually my role is even more passive than that of a guide. I was glad to have experienced Yavin, for the suck sand describes it best. My role is to stand in safety, on dry soil. I can tell the being trapped within that a vine is available to pull themselves out, but I cannot offer it. I must watch them struggle to find it.

Sometimes they lose the battle.

"We are recovery," I assured the Princess gently. "When there is a physical injury, medics have scans, don't they? Rehabilitation and medicine help the return to normal. Our method is similar, except the wound is more fluid. We see where pain is taken in, and we help to let it out."

"It sounds... like breathing." Princess Leia said. She was, at last, intellectually intrigued. She finally took a seat. "It reminds me of how I've heard the Force described."

I smiled. "Interesting you should say that. Pain is- or was, since the Jedi are no more- once thought to be a physical sensation of the Force. Many beings traveled to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to receive treatments from the Jedi healers.

"But that is no more," I stopped myself from going on a tangent. "Pain is real. In my work, we don't mask it, and we can't make it go away entirely, but we can... settle it, arrange it in you, so you can live with it."

"I didn't have a medscan," the Princess mentioned unexpectedly. "When I returned. Captain Solo wanted to use one to see if I was injured. I suppose he was the only one who thought it necessary. I'd undergone- Darth Vader-" The thumbs of her hands rubbed together. "I was interrogated. And yet-"

"That was overlooked," I said frankly. I made a note on my tablet. "I will address that. That was wrong."

The Princess let her back rest against the chair.

"I did want to see you," I said, alluding to the Minister sending her to me. "For you are supposed to see me. It's been nine days since we started the CBA, and we haven't finished."

"I know," the Princess said.

I rested the tablet on my lap and crossed my legs, ready to work. "Nine days," I repeated. "And a lot has happened. There's been much talk about you. You look tired. Are you alright?"

Transcript follows:

Princess Leia: I suppose you want an explanation as to why I didn't evacuate with my assigned transport.

Dr. Renzatl: This is not at all about what I want. Do you want to talk about it?

Princess Leia: No. (Lifts hand, drops it.) I mean- no. But I feel it has cost me something.

Dr. Renzatl: What has it cost you?

Princess Leia: (shakes head imperceptibly.)

(Several minutes pass in silence.)

Dr. Renzatl: May I ask you something, Your Highness? (Waits for Princess Leia to nod). When you introduced yourself to me in the hangar the day of the evacuation, did you already know you were going to miss your transport?

Princess Leia: (looks down at clasped hands). Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: And... the captain- (scrolls through notes to find his name.)

Princess Leia: Han Solo.

Dr. Renzatl: Yes, Captain Solo. Did he know you were going to leave on his ship? Or the Wookiee?

Princess Leia: No.

Dr. Renzatl: There was a search for you, are you aware?

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: And numerous attempts were made to contact you.

Princess Leia: I know. (Another long silence.) You're trying to show I cost something.

Dr. Renzatl: I'm on your side, Princess Leia. I see someone in pain, who was wise enough to take steps to try and let it out.

Princess Leia: Is that what I did? It was-? It didn't feel like pain.

Dr. Renzatl: What did it feel like?

Princess Leia: It felt... like the only thing I could do. And after a while, it felt right. I did things. I learned things, more than I thought. It was calm. So much so, that the reaction after I arrived felt like everyone was running around frantically with their hands up in the air, crying "the Princess is missing!"

Dr. Renzatl: (Smiles.) It did cause a bit of an uproar.

Princess Leia: Captain Solo was right. He said it would raise a- he called it a 'stink'.

Dr. Renzatl: Was he upset with you? Or the trouble you caused him?

Princess Leia: Trouble is interesting to him. He likes to watch it and smirk. I think he wanted to do it. And he's outside the Alliance, so it really wasn't trouble to him.

Dr. Renzatl: This perception you sense from the others, little girl or ghost- you don't feel that from him?

Princess Leia: No. We wouldn't be friends, would we, in any other situation, so our relationship is very much in the moment. It's stripped, of titles and labels. It's...

Dr. Renzatl: What?

Princess Leia: I was going to say that even though he- and Chewie and Luke, too- know me from the Death Star, because of the Death Star, they are the only ones who don't define me by it.

Dr. Renzatl: Is that how you feel? That you are defined by the Death Star?

Princess Leia: It changed everything, didn't it.

Dr. Renzatl: I suppose it did. (Watches Princess Leia lapse into thought.) What are you thinking about?

Princess Leia: When we parted, Han told me to keep being a princess.

Dr. Renzatl: A positive affirmation. What do you think he meant by that?

Princess Leia: He can't have any idea, can he? Socially, we are wolds apart. I didn't tell him how many spacecraft my family owned. Or that I had twelve maidens on Alderaan attending me-

Dr. Renzatl: Twelve?

Princess Leia: I know he assumes I was wealthy. On the Death Star, that's what I got from him. Being a royal meant feeling entitled and wealthy. Luke promised him some of my private wealth as a reward for rescuing me.

Dr. Renzatl: But he wasn't saying, 'stay wealthy'.

Princess Leia: (smiles.) No. He wasn't. And I can't, because everything is gone.

Dr. Renzatl: He was saying...

Princess Leia: I worked hard, as a princess.

Dr. Renzatl: You must have. Twelve maidens!

Princess Leia: Yes. Hours of meetings, and training. Traveling, discussion. Contact.

Dr. Renzatl: And politics.

Princess Leia: (nods.) The Rebellion.

Dr. Renzatl: He was encouraging you to keep working hard?

Princess Leia: (softly.) To fight. Keep learning. Honor my principles.

Dr. Renzatl: You changed him.

Princess Leia: (head snaps up.) Did I?

Dr. Renzatl: He went from equating royalty with wealth, no other benefit that he could see, to respecting you.

Princess Leia: I suppose.

Dr. Renzatl: A change resultant from the Death Star. Not really a new definition of you, though, is it.

Princess Leia: How do you mean?

Dr. Renzatl: You were a princess and senator before the Death Star. A very accomplished woman.

Princess Leia: I was. I was that way on the Death Star too, but...

Dr. Renzatl: What?

Princess Leia: I don't really know. I _was_ that way. I don't think many would have been able to accomplish what I did on the Death Star.

Dr. Renzatl: You mean the interrogation and torture. When you look back on it, does anything strike you? You have told me before you are proud of how you conducted yourself then.

Princess Leia: Yes. That was all Darth Vader.

Dr. Renzatl: But something changed. (Waits.) Let's go back to the beginning, when you said you felt like this had cost you something. I want to see if we can identify what that is, and if it occurred earlier than your abrupt decision to leave- was it abrupt?

Princess Leia: Fairly. When Luke came up to me in the hangar to say goodbye. I can't say I was thinking about it. I don't think I was, but ... It just came on me.

Dr. Renzatl: Ah, saying goodbye.

Princess Leia: (with brows knit.) I can't see that I would- that-

Dr. Renzatl: Saying goodbye to the only ones who don't define you by the Death Star. (Princess Leia remains silent). A place where you were self-assured, competent, and efficient. A place that changed everything.

Princess Leia: (uncomfortably) Obviously I haven't thought this through-

Dr. Renzatl: It's fine. These are often seem like they clash with each other. Or maybe even don't make sense.

Princess Leia: I'd like some kaf.

Dr. Renzatl: Please, help yourself. (Waits while Princess Leia pours and resumes her seat.) I know you are uncomfortable, Your Highness. You are just beginning. If you open yourself up to your feelings, you'll find they can't defeat you.

Princess Leia: It sounds like the Force again.

Dr. Renzatl: Perhaps it is. How do you perceive the Alliance defines you?

Princess Leia: (that imperceptible head shake again.) As... I don't know. If I say a failure, I know that's not true. I think it, and I deny it immediately, and I think it again. I brought the plans, we blew up the Death Star. Mon wants me to take on the leadership for the Alderaani, so she thinks I can do it, but also she... she thinks I killed my father.

Dr. Renzatl: Has she said that?

Princess Leia: No.

Dr. Renzatl: Has she made any indication that-

Princess Leia: (Impatiently) I was on the Death Star and the Death Star destroyed Alderaan and my father was there.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia values reason, and she retreats behind it when confronted with powerful emotions. She is also self-reliant, and is unaccustomed to revealing any vulnerability in front of someone she doesn't trust. However, though she was a bit more forthcoming this session, her trust is an identifiable casualty of this trauma. She doesn't trust the Alliance to have the faith in her she feels she deserves, and while she resents that, she also somehow believes they are validated because she no longer can trust herself.

The Princess was skittish and uncomfortable, and the way she dismisses real concern from others most likely stems from guilt. I decided to not push her too far this session, and veered off the topic of the Death Star. I brought up her upcoming station on Buteral.

Transcript continues

Dr. Renzatl: What are your hopes for the refugees?

Princess Leia: That I can be their Princess. That they will let me. That... it's meaningful. Healing.

Dr. Renzatl: For you, too.

Princess Leia: Yes. I don't know why- (presses lips together.) I understand how my experience on the Death Star could have lasting effects.

Dr. Renzatl: Like what?

Princess Leia: I'm sure I don't need to tell you.

Dr. Renzatl: I'm interested in you, not what I know.

Princess Leia: I wish my hair just turned white. So everyone would leave me alone and that would be that.

Dr. Renzatl: A physical manifestation.

Princess Leia: A statement. The white hair on a young person.

Dr. Renzatl: I think of old age.

Princess Leia: I think of sudden shock.

Dr. Renzatl: Do you?

Princess Leia: (Nods.) My father's grandfather supposedly had a serious fever. He was young, and overnight his hair turned white. From the fever. At least, that's the family legend. I only knew him when he was elderly, and his hair was a beautiful white.

Dr. Renatl: So everyone would know by looking at you? That you had a sudden shock.

Princess Leia: And was changed forever. And then they would leave me alone. No speculation.

Dr. Renzatl: You don't like that. It goes back to being made to feel like they are dealing with a ghost, or the little girl who can't follow directions. (Princess Leia seethes.) You feel misunderstood.

Princess Leia: Almost disapproved of. That because of one thing- granted, a big thing- but one thing, and suddenly they can't trust my character. They look back and think they've never been able to.

Dr. Renzat: It's very isolating, isn't it? And painful to you. Yes, I used the word pain. I understand when you said going on the freighter was the only thing you could do.

Princess Leia: (weakly funny) I'd rather be with Darth Vader.

Dr. Renzatl: I'm curious about Captain Solo. Was it hard to involve him? To tell him what you needed, to ask for him to help you achieve it?

Princess Leia: I was apprehensive. I told him in steps. But only he could do it.

Dr. Renzatl: Why?

Princess Leia: Because he's not Alliance.

Dr. Renzatl: I know only what your friend Luke Skywalker has said of him. He was- I hope memory serves me- he was fond, or almost proud of the fact that Captain Solo is a smuggler and conman.

Princess Leia: (smiles faintly). In any other situation Luke wouldn't be his friend, either. Han is an outlaw, it's true. But- I don't know. He smuggled us.

Dr. Renzatl: So where others may find disapproval, you find some good.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: Was he smuggling you again?

Princess Leia: No. Not this time. But he was prepared to. He was worried, because of the ship's make and Imperial patrols, that we would be stopped based just on appearance- (stops).

Dr. Renzatl: What are you realizing?

Princess Leia: The- the disapproval.

Dr. Renzatl: Go on.

Princess Leia: Is that the only reason we are friends?

Dr. Renzatl: I don't think so. Your friendship with him and Luke stems from the Death Star. I think you're realizing that he's a bit like you. Misunderstood.

Princess Leia: But that was an event. Years from now it might be the only thing we have in common.

Dr. Renzatl: An event where you all were tested. And learned about each other's character. Now you're building more common ground. Deepening the friendship. You're very fortunate to have that. I'm glad, in your moment of pain, he went along with you. What if he denied your request?

Princess Leia: I don't know. I suppose I could have held him at gunpoint. (Laughs weakly) I'm not serious.

Dr. Renzatl: (raises brows.)

Princess Leia: I'm not. If he had the same attitude as the Alliance, and he dropped me off... But he didn't, so there's no sense trying to predict what I would have done.

Dr. Renzatl: Because he doesn't disapprove.

Princess Leia: He doesn't.

Dr. Renzatl: The trip seems to have brought you a measure of peace.

Princess Leia: It was quiet. There was a lot of travel time. I did a lot of thinking.

Dr. Renzatl: That's good.

Princess Leia: I tried to ready myself for what I'm to do next.

Dr. Renzatl: What did you think about?

Princess Leia: The... odd circumstances of everything. Luke, General Kenobi. My father.

Dr. Renzatl: You don't regret going.

Princess Leia: No. Not even with all this (waves hand)- coming back.

Dr. Renzatl: Are you concerned about a disciplinary review?

Princess Leia: I thought I was. I was more upset to hear about it; that they thought I merited one. But to hear you ask, specifically: No. What can they do to me? I'm not even ranked.

Dr. Renzatl: (smiles.) Put a letter in your file?

Princess Leia: Right.

Dr. Renzatl: And you feel the Minister has confidence in you to represent your people.

Princess Leia: She asked me to. When I'm cleared for duty, may I have the rank of Princess?

Dr. Renzatl: I know you are joking, and yet a part of me feels you are serious.

Princess Leia: I was joking, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth I meant them.

Dr. Renzatl: How would a princess differ from, say, a general? Is it to keep yourself separate from the Alliance? Is it your white hair?

Princess Leia: My white hair. (Smiles.) I like that. And for the autonomy. So I can board smuggling freighters whenever I want without repercussions.

Dr. Renzatl: You don't trust the Alliance. Trust goes both ways.

Princess Leia: Then I suppose I don't.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia and I will work together on Buteral. The Minister of War has appointed an Alderaani as general under whom my colleagues and I will operate TRAD. Princess Leia is head of Administration, and we will report to her.

I told the Princess her point of contact would be Major Jaf Klander, as I wanted to avoid conflicts of interest as I continued to monitor her recovery. We agreed we would meet in the evenings once a week in my quarters.

She has great compassion, unscarred and grown larger by the tragedy, I think. Her sense of humor has been wounded but every once in a while I catch flares of how sharp it once was.

As with anyone who is compelled to fulfill someone else's idea, she is still reluctant and not enthusiastic to share; however, I feel she is beginning to recognize that keeping herself isolated is not in her own best interest.

The Minister of War wants her cleared for duty and I have no reservations in recommending she begin her service with the Alliance. We shall see what Buteral brings us. I hope to see her in uniform, and I will continue to call her Princess.


	28. Awakening

Was it the Force? Was it her father, and Obi Wan Kenobi, whose name she called upon when it was too late, that brought her here to Buteral?

An impossible place, and she would love it if it weren't for the fact she had to lose everything else to get here.

There was never a place like it in all of Alderaan, and that made it perfect. Tall humps of rocky earth rose like spines out of the sea, like spikes of a half-buried creature. A rushing darkness came in with the tide, water and sky indiscernible because space above was starless, and that was also perfect.

Low tide was ugly and exposed, but it was fascinating too, with its snails and crabs and the occasional fish stranded dead on the shoal, caught unaware.

It is fragile. A submoon; a moon's moon. The humps look like they've been here forever, and indeed it has been a long time, and the night tides keep count. The humps are covered with a mossy vine, a very pale green, but Leia could see fossil formations at the tide's mark from where she stood, and where the vines are auburn, crinkled and dead, she knew the tide was rising higher each time, lasting longer. It will happen one day, perhaps a very long time from now, but still it will happen, and Buteral's tide will not leave, the orbit will falter, and the mother moon will tear Buteral apart.

It fits Leia. Somehow she is all of these things: a pale vine struggling in the brief sunlight, a careless fish caught in a pool, a resilient vision of chalky green rising from blackness. She is a survivor doomed; she is even the mother moon who destroys her own satellite. The tides spend a long time covering, and so does Leia, but in spite of that a smuggler finds her interesting and a farmboy can still admire her.

Pilings were drilled; piers joined one another from hump to hump, and Leia worried about the impact on the moon as much as she did the arrival of refugees.

She was their Princess. She was the mother moon. Even if time allowed for a billon generations of life, the ending was all that mattered.


	29. Awakening, II

First there was Time and Earth. That was how Alderaan started, the first two goddesses, but Leia could see them here on Buteral, too. The wildness, the... empty canvas. But it wasn't goddesses who arrived. It was humans.

Next to come was Form and Art. Leia sat on the bridge that connected the shoal to the nearest hump of tall risen earth. Thoughts of Alderaan: maidens, the refugees, generals and goddesses filled her mind, passed the time. There wasn't much to do yet; General Rieekan had given them the day off to rest and unpack after their arrival. Leia had little to unpack and she didn't rest. Instead she felt... followed. Or expanded. An awareness stayed with her, that god of irony and truth. It would be better if one of the goddesses had survived, a remnant of Alderaan, who had the power to restore. Leia wouldn't be afraid to face the refugees then. She had a sense of time, like that of a higher being, and all human struggle was paltry.

Birth and Discord were the next goddesses. There were twelve in total, and Leia had always wondered which ones were the most important. She decided now it was these two. Eventually the twelve goddesses gathered to dance, and Alderaan was sculpted. They all tended to her, filling her with their strengths and weaknesses, and like a mother they realized the time for sheltering had come to an end, and their creation must flourish on its own. So the goddesses made another daughter, and they gave her an earthly form, and she was the queen. The queen was tended by twelve maidens, to remind her of her origins.

Buteral was- not even a moon- a submoon; a strange, windy place. Mostly sea, with tall, narrow spikes of earth rising out of it. There was just a little bit of life, and yet the visiting humans had no trouble breathing or walking in its atmosphere. Buteral was... untended, Leia thought. There were no caretakers. It had no history. Until now.

It was a strange idea, to think of a place no one cared about; no god, no higher life form. Witnessing its crude state, seeing just what even a single goddess could make of such a place, gave Leia a sense of the span of the galaxy and her own bitter insignificance. There was no one to give this odd submoon a story, to say how it came to have a place in the galaxy, and yet Buteral didn't care. It was just here, and that was that. So different than Alderaan, with its complicated mythology and layered social structure.

Just who had failed whom, Leia wanted to know. The goddesses were the maidens of the planet, and the queen was the steward, and had her own, mortal maidens to keep her on the right path. There was no actual queen at the time of Alderaan's destruction. Leia was too young when her mother died, and her father, as Viceroy, became her steward until she came of age. Alderaan had a princess and not a queen, and Leia wondered if they had failed the goddesses. Or did it have something to do with her father? Was it his politics, or just that no god or man had ever had a role in the fate of Alderaan?

Carlist Rieekan was a shock. An Alderaani, the first she met since... And he was real, not starlight or whatever it was Leia pictured... It was the Graveyard, she realized. She had to tell herself the refugees were people. They were alive, and some would be coming here, like Carlist Rieekan, only not as generals. As themselves, businessmen or vacationers, and-

She felt her heart thump. Felt it, but the surroundings were too dark, too new; she was too busy taking it in to question why the thump was there; deep down she noted it but wouldn't let it surface. It was nerves, she told herself. Nerves, that didn't allow seeing a homeworlder fill her with relief or joy but more a dread.

What was disorienting was how she _knew_, going by nothing. They arrived on Buteral in the dead of its long night, and she and the other two majors were given head lamps to wear. A man was waiting for them to disembark. The insignia pinned on his jacket glinted in the lights; he was a general. His head was lowered, turned away from the glare of the lamps, and his hair was brown.

And she knew: this was an Alderaani man, when there was nothing to tell her. Brown was nothing special; Han had brown hair. It was common.

The general was waiting for them, his own head lamp turned off. The majors saluted him but the lights prevented him from noticing. He was squinting, trying to angle his head, peering behind them.

Carlist Rieekan was an envoy for the House of Organa. Highly placed; an associate of her father's. He had been in the meeting when Leia proposed the first time to be the one to accept and deliver the plans.

She didn't know him well, but she was the Princess and she had called him Carlist. Now he was General Rieekan and his attendance at their arrival- largely in part because she was on board, she knew that, too- almost toppled her, and again she thought her father could have survived. Should have survived, but that was awful, and she swallowed that thought too, because it meant her happiness meant someone else's despair, and that was selfish, and unreasonable, and anyway it wasn't what happened.

Death was simple on Buteral. When the sun finally provided some daylight the sea had receded, and Leia noticed a dead fish. It was on its side, a feathery fin sprawled out, telling Leia the fish had struggled. Caught in the rapid ebb, the waters too shallow for it to escape. She stared at it, breathing in gulps, trying not to cry. Had her father elected to die, chose the planet over his daughter?- but that wasn't right. He thought his daughter was dead. Chose to join the daughter rather than save the planet...

Leia shook her head sharply, to shut the thoughts up. They just kept coming, like she was still under the effects of the interrogation drugs or Vader's mind probe.

Buteral's night was a starless darkness. Water surged around; Leia could hear it rushing forward and then shrinking away, an unsure child, but she couldn't see it. No one else saw the general place his left fist over his heart and the beam from her headlamp passed over him rapidly twice: _No._ He could have asked her _may I walk in your shadow _or _how could you let this happen_ but instead he greeted them, and he welcomed them, and he kept talking. The general apologized for the long night, of which he had no control, but they would be waking early, in the dark, and Leia wanted to tell him, _stop bringing Alderaan into this _even though he never mentioned it, but she also couldn't bring herself to talk to him.

She didn't sleep. Her room was brightly lit, small. She opened the window. The noise of the sea enlarged the room. She turned the light off and cast the beam of her head lamp from her forehead out the window. Strange features suddenly jumped in the way of her vision as her head turned an arc, as if she were moving fast and rushing up to them. She tested turning the headlamp off and just watched the darkness, trying to pick up something other than sound.

The sea reminded her to take caution. There was a wildness in it, like her anger; it kept rushing in, never spent but never effective anyway. It retreated, gathering the same strength to try again.

There was no one to tell her to sleep. No maiden to urge her to rest. They would stay awake with her. Sometimes, if her head was reeling from excitement, they played cards. Other times, like when her mother was sick or Leia scared one read a story aloud and they all listened. Did they even like her? Had anyone loved her? Why did their deaths feel like hypocrisy?

_Mine, _Leia answered.

Her Alliance issue was already in the room, shipped from Yavin after she had taken the oath. Leia inspected it with the lights on. Data manual, kit, uniform and blaster. The almost-gross of candles, if it had been delivered, was elsewhere. The uniform was still pinned in its packaging, creases sharp and defined.

The Death Star gown had become her own uniform of sorts, for almost two weeks. Since her arrest. No one wanted to see it anymore, she thought, and she rubbed the bodice with care. It wouldn't mean to the refugees what it meant to her and she didn't want to anger them. To even _call_ it the Death Star gown-

Luke had changed clothes without ceremony. Went from a farm boy to a pilot in a heart beat. But he'd always wanted that, Leia thought. She wished she could talk him, and she wondered how he was doing.

_I'll send him a holomessage, _she resolved. If she couldn't wear the gown, she needed... Luke was like her roots, she thought. From the moment he entered her cell, and set her free. She took off. She had to.

Sometimes, when she pictured the Death Star- not solid under her feet, Tarkin alive and talking- but looking like Alderaan after the laser, she had half a mind to grab Luke, Han and Chewie and win the war herself.

The sea retreated with a hiss and Leia turned the lights out once more to change her clothes in the dark. She did with her Death Star gown what she had with Mon Mothma's on Yavin: folded it carefully and set it for storage. If they had to evacuate, Princess Leia had something to take now. Something to care for. And in turn the Alliance would tend to it, too. It was a step in the right direction. Then she sat on the small cot, feeling the fabric of the pants around her legs.

_I'll read to you, _she told the room, its maiden, and activated the data board, and studied the operations manual.

* * *

During the sun's weak reign the sea was silent and far away. Leia was fascinated by- she didn't know what to call it. The undershore? Not quite land, definitely not beach. The sea bed, she supposed. Black and shiny, a rich-looking muck. But the exposed ridge of the shoal was hard and crusty, and Leia balanced carefully upon it. She'd walked a long way; she much preferred the wind's pull to the stifling confinement of her quarters. The air had a distinct aroma of healthy rot.

The light was already dimming, and the line of horizon separating sea and sky seemed to rise, so she headed for the bridge. She wanted to watch the sea come in. General Rieekan said it came at dark, and she was double checking that her headlamp was still working, when something caught her eye.

A tiny bulge, a jerk of motion. Leia stared.

Snails! She hadn't noticed any before- watching the stillness of the dead fish, there was nothing else. There were hundreds, if not thousands, like tiny tumors, once you knew what to look for. Leia sat and watched them, dangling her legs from the bridge's surface. What were the snails doing? Is this the time when they were free? What did they do when when the water covered them? It felt important, to understand this land that would be her home, or her people's home, anyway.

The thought of people on this place... bridges, connecting the independent humps of risen earth...they'd be like snails at low tide. Everywhere. It was a bit nauseating.

But that was people. Leia told herself. Humans. They'd scattered themselves all over the galaxy, as soon as they were able. Anywhere they could breathe. They took over, changed everything, and from that perspective it made so much sense that one planet, not her people, would be the thing to disappear.

_We've come,_ Leia apologized to the sea.

"May I fall in your shadow?" a voice came off to the side. General Rieekan, offering the Alderaani greeting of a lesser to higher.

Leia closed her eyes. "You may sit," she answered. She could hear her mother say it. _You may sit, _dry and weary. Once Rieekan had lowered himself awkwardly onto the bridge floor, she told him, "You'll tell them not to greet me so, Carlist."

"Your Highness," General Rieekan began, but Leia cut him off. She hadn't known him well, but she remembered him differently. He walked with a stoop now, and everything was prefaced with a mournful grin.

"No," she said firmly. "I won't." After a while, because he was treating her as a much higher authority, when he was the general and remaining silent, she said, "There's safety in numbers, you know."

"Your Highness?"

"I've been watching the snails. Do you see them? There are so many. All the same size. They all look the same. You are but one thread in the tapestry, Carlist. And I... The goddesses entrusted me- us, the House of Organa- with the warp. I was supposed to add the weft. Not cut it from the loom." She looked at him. "Where were you?"

"A question only one of us would ask." Rieekan swept his arm out, indicating the refugees yet to come. He closed his eyes tightly. "On Naboo. Your father sent me to keep pressing the current queen. She is fearful of Palpatine. There is a growing trend of pride the planet produced the Emperor."

Leia said softly, "Fools. And your wife?" She tried to recall the details, what had become history. "Two sons?"

"I left all behind." Rieekan's chin lowered almost to his chest. "It was supposed to be a quick trip. I suppose it was."

Leia nodded in understanding. "It's the after that is forever." The light was growing dimmer. Leia couldn't make out the snails anymore. "There will be so many with the same tale."

"You will weave it for us."

She shook her head. Maybe she had the advantage because she stood on the Death Star, or because she was the Princess. "No," she said, her voice still soft. "I think it's done."

Neither spoke for a time. Then Leia ventured, her voice directed toward the snails, "Do you know what a refugee is?"

At Rieekan's silence, she continued. "Someone forced to leave their homeworld. We aren't refugees. It's true in the sense we have no other place to go, but we don't fit the term."

"Homeless, then," Rieekan suggested. He started to pull something from his pocket. "We should head in." His headlamp, Leia saw, and she looked at the sky, watching for signs of the sun set.

"Tide's rush," he told her. He gave her that mournful grin. "It's not called sunset here. Tide's rush."

Leia could hear it. Water, moving quickly. The noise filled the air much as the water filled the sky. "That's why I'm sitting. I want to see it. Or, hear it."

"Oh." Rieekan took a half step forward, stopped, bent his knees, and stopped again. Leia had the distinct impression sitting on the floor was difficult for him, and remembered she needed to dismiss him.

"You have your own shadow, General Rieekan. I'm safe on the bridge?"

"Yes." Rieekan adjusted his lamp and then shoved his hands in his pocket. "We haven't seen a storm but they built the bridge with flooding in mind."

Leia twisted to peer up at him. Silhouetted in the dark, his brown hair shadowed like the rest of him, he still looked Alderaani. "Have the candles arrived?"

There was broken grief and gratitude in his voice. "You ordered candles?"

They weren't here yet, then. Maybe they added one more delivery to Han's contract. Maybe she would see him again. "On my own," she took pains to explain. "What I could find on short notice."

Rieekan grunted. "We've got a budget now."

The air was roaring. Leia's heart thumped some more. Tide's rush, she said to herself. She felt the power of the sea, its vastness. It changed the whole character of the submoon. From weak light and quiet, efficient soil to darkness, the menace of change. She turned on her lamp, and the water sparkled back, rolling and black. It was clear how quickly it was moving, and the ridge where she had walked earlier was now covered, curling water smashing over it.

"I went to the Graveyard," she told him. Her voice was still quiet, yet it carried over the sea.

In the darkness, she thought he nodded. "I heard."

"Would you want to see it?" Leia was curious to learn if her desire to visit it stemmed from her own sense of responsibility.

"What was it like?" he wanted to know.

"It was... tender."

"What the galaxy lacks at the moment," Rieekan said.

Leia thought of Chewie, and the haven his furry embrace offered, and then Han, and the way Chewie cuffed the back of his head. "The living make it complicated," she said. "But I don't think it's gone entirely."

"That's good to hear," the general grinned at her sadly.

"You have your own shadow," Leia reminded him, and he gave her a nod, and left her to watch the sea.

In his sad, sad smile, in his stooped posture even, there was Alderaan. Not the General's two sons, nor his wife, though his pain was palpable; but the planet, the wholeness of a loss they shared together. They were still Alderaani. They were- a culture. A community. To be able to step into shadows, and to watch the flame of a candle burn with someone who knew...

With a small ache of sympathy, she suddenly remembered Luke, and the pilot friend he spoke of after the Battle of Yavin, the one he knew from "home".

There was so much loneliness in the world, Leia thought. And struggle. _I saw you, fish. _On the bridge, alone in the dark and with her lamp darkened, Leia couldn't forget the fish on its side, mouth and eyes open, or how it had tried. Luke's friend knowingly risked death, as had her father. The fish was different. In the moment of its death, it wasn't trying to be brave; it wasn't trying to make a difference. It just thought it would die differently. It just wanted to live.

_I saw you, Alderaan. _

Leia's heart jumped to her throat and she cried.

* * *

AN: To the Guest Reviewer, thank you for your care and concern. What a lovely gesture.  
Sorry you had to wait so long.


	30. Memory, Time and Forgiveness

By Alderaanian custom, when a person died they were severed from the living. Only their memory may be kept alive. The dead made their way unseen to the otherworld, accompanied by the warmth of candlelight, and the spirits Memory, Time and Forgiveness.

But now the dead far outnumbered the living. They had died together, all at once. Leia thought of the Graveyard as the otherworld. And the dead were... Forgiveness had reached them, she thought, for they weren't hounding her for revenge. They were... she remembered how serene she thought the Graveyard was, how surreal the knowledge of the violence upon the planet felt. She knew who was there: her father, the maidens, all the friends and servants she had known throughout her life. Her mother, too, from years before.

It was the living who had been severed from their world. All worlds: the physical, the living, and the other.

And Leia didn't know what to do. The physical world of Alderaan had become its own spirit, and Leia was not a priest in a temple; she did not know what the spirit was trying to tell her. Alderaan lurked in the darkness; even with her headlamp on, no better than blinders, it followed her along the shoal, across the bridge. It hissed like a wave receding, furious and demanding.

Or it was a wind at her hair, blurring the two coiled rolls of hair into a fuzzy halo. As she walked Alderaan shed from her, like leaves from a tree. Resigned and lost, it fell away.

Which would the refugees want? Leia's uncertainty kept her up at night. Angry or whimpering? It was them she would not recognize, she feared. And they weren't... unified, like the dead. At peace. Would it anger them- would it anger the _spirit- _if some customs weren't rebuilt on Buteral? Should she implement change? Time had run out. Memory was all they had.

No queen had ever been faced with such a task. And she was still only the Princess. If they even wanted her...

Alderaan was, used to be, a pacifist world. She had thought, maybe the refugees might want to join the Alliance. Follow their Princess into battle.

Major Klander settled that for her. "No weapons," he told her. "We have to bear in mind the existence of a heightened vulnerability. Evidence supports that violent acts, whether directed toward another or oneself, increase when a weapon is readily available."

Leia had learned two things about Major Klander just by observing him at the snack counter: he liked free things, and he liked eating. She also guessed his wispy red hair would be gone in a few years, but he seemed to be good at his job. He met with Leia for hours, asking questions about all sorts of things; phrases and lore and culture. "I'm not saying they can't enlist," and he looked her uniform over, pausing at the small blaster holstered at her hip, "but a blaster is part of the uniform. I would hate to see it put to use for the wrong reason." He added, maybe because he saw the look of uncertainty cloud Leia's eyes, "Not until we know they are ready. A weapon can lead to an impulsive reaction."

She didn't press it. Too, she thought she might even agree with that statement. Not everyone, of course, but perhaps those with... an emotional urgency. Of course, living in a weaponless society gave her little real experience. There weren't many with whom she'd spent time who were also armed.

Luke had his father's lightsaber, and he hadn't pulled it out the whole time on the Death Star. Had he? He could have cut a hole in the wall of the garbage masher, or run to General Kenobi's defense. But he hadn't. He probably didn't know how to use it. But if it enticed impulse, Luke had none. Whereas Han and his blaster... Leia remembered he shot at a noise when Chewie showed fear. How do you shoot a noise, she shook her head bemusedly. And after he used it on the storm troopers, he followed it, not them; as if it were more than something he held in his hand... _his brains,_ she teased him by herself.

What the Alderaani needed was proof, Leia thought. Proof of the spirits, so they would come together like the dead had. She didn't have a candle yet in her office, and she spent most of the time listing everyone she could think of, because deciding on clothing made her eyes bleary, and she had told Han she would, and it was something she could do.

It was a stream of names; one after the other in a long line, like a great sea. Bail Organa's was the first, and she followed it with those in his office. Next came her maidens, and their parents and siblings she could think of; on and on. She was Memory.

* * *

When the darkness fell again and the sea roared over the snails, Leia escaped her office and paced the bridge. She didn't wear her headlamp; the bridge was smooth and straight, with a railing, and she didn't want anyone to notice her little round light bouncing along.

There was only one bit of past that didn't clench her heart so terribly. She was barely twenty, a short life compared to someone like Carlist Rieekan, but memories of Alderaan were never only visual that she could recount with a fond smile; never merely _I had a rope swing on the big tree in the family garden._ The memory of the sight of tree was enough to tighten her heart; its large, solid trunk, the way the branches scattered upwards, reaching to the sun, and then to see in her mind the little girl throwing her feet up to the sky, happy and carefree, when she knew how the little girl would grow up...

She thought about the Death Star. Specifically, just the few hours she walked it with Luke, Han and Chewie. Alderaan was gone, and it wasn't until the Death Star was too that Leia would fall apart. Now she viewed the men and Wookiee as... a haven. A tourniquet. They narrowed her thinking.

She hadn't been able to message Luke. She had tried. Started a recording, forced a falsely bright, "Hi, Luke" out, and was unable to say anymore. Because she'd kind of... infected him, with her first. Ruined his world. She doomed his aunt and uncle, brought Kenobi to his own death. She could have told him, "everything you love will die," because it was true, but instead she said, "there wasn't anything you could have done," and that was a paraphrase.

_Poor Luke,_ she thought for the hundredth time. She could hear him argue with her. _Come on, Leia. I don't think that's true. The Force doesn't pick favorites. _And he would list all the love he'd seen, his aunt and uncle, twisting his face in anguish, but he would wave it away with his hand. _It's okay; love didn't kill my aunt and uncle. The Empire did. _And then in the next breath he could laugh, _Do you think Han and Chewie count?_

Yes, he was special. She needed to learn from him. Perhaps the other Alderaani would be like him, sad but hopeful. It was too bad that just when he shed that poncho and the confines of Tatooine to taste his own destiny, all he had were secrets.

_Poor Luke, _she kept thinking, and it always brought her back to Kenobi, though she tried hard to detour the thought. She hated the constant questions; they never gave her a moment's peace. Even with the one safe memory of the Death Star, when she was calm and capable. _Why? _Why was everything. Why- how- did Palpatine seize power, why was she rescued and why was Alderaan not? She'd been down this road before, over and over again. She had no information and nothing ever changed. The similarities between her and Luke meant nothing. Mere coincidence was all. So he was an orphan. She got the feeling Han was too; sadly it wasn't uncommon. She hadn't had family to raise her like Luke had his aunt and uncle. Her father had brought her as a baby to the House of Organa. He could have brought her to anyone, but instead chose to have her be his daughter. And a whole planet welcomed her. He steered her to this moment, though he it would never cross his mind in a thousand years to where he brought her.

A whole planet...

Shakily, Leia closed her eyes and put her hand on the bridge railing. She ground out the questions into the roar of the sea. What did her father _know? _Why did Kenobi wait? Why didn't he steer Luke? And if her father knew why Kenobi was waiting, did he know of Luke's destiny? Was there something of hers-

If her father knew, if there was something about her he knew, he would tell her. He'd always been like that. He told her things when he thought she was ready. He was a gentle, loving father, and his destiny was to die when his homeworld exploded.

Palpatine would call him a fool. And Tarkin was the one to-

The secret, Leia forced herself back on track, if there was one, was gone. Just like Luke's. Her father had left it somewhere, because he knew he had to prepare. _No one retires from this._ So he had left it for her and she should know, but he couldn't have known what was going to happen to Alderaan, and so now she may never know.

* * *

Across three monitors, Rieekan had spread out the list of systems reporting Alderaani populations. One monitor was for Alderaani who had relocated; another for those with temporary residency, such as students and those with visas; and the third was Alderaani who reported to an embassy after the destruction.

It was evidence, Leia thought; private evidence of her failure, and she was glad she and Rieekan met alone, without the prying eyes of Dr. Renzatl or Major Klander.

"It's these that have our highest priority," General Rieekan left a smudge on the third monitor with his finger.

Leia nodded slowly, looking at the list of eleven systems and trying to mentally calculate the number of Alderaani.

"One hundred fifty-seven," General Rieekan informed her.

Leia blinked. The number was unexpected. So precise, and she was trying to decide if it was a large or small number.

"Those here," Rieekan indicated the second monitor, "number quite a bit, but they are safe. They've got housing, at any rate, and meal plans. They'll need us eventually, but for now..."

"One hundred fifty seven," she repeated slowly. She had, she thought, imagined thousands. And Buteral was already crowded with the few humans fighting the sea for space. "Can- can Buteral handle that?"

"There's not a lot of land," Rieekan agreed with a sad smile. "And the sea limits construction time. The CTC is sending tents and water craft."

Leia stared at the monitor. "When you think of the total population," she breathed, "it doesn't... it's not much."

"No. A scratch on the surface, I would think. Assana is unstable; they probably can't get to the embassy. Ord Mantell has a heavy Imperial presence but it's fiercely independent. I would bet they are sneaking off rather than ask for help."

"What about Coruscant? Mon was concerned for Alderaani living in Imperial City."

Rieekan winced. "We have no indication they are being held against their will. Or that their lives have suffered any disruption. Reports are that several yachts took off from the City after the destruction, but they have returned."

"They went to the Graveyard," Leia surmised with confidence. "To see for themselves. And then what- they..."

"They went home," Rieekan said, his voice quiet. "To Imperial City."

"They- did nothing? Lost all those family members and friends," Leia felt an anger build, "and just... shrugged? Went back to the lives they had on Coruscant? Are they even going to burn the candle?"

"I couldn't say, Your Highness. Those that are on worlds like Coruscant, or Chandrila- the larger, developed ones- have appealed to that world for assistance. And, to be fair," Rieekan exhaled a sigh, "they have made a life elsewhere. They have homes, their children go to school."

"And what good is the candle so far away," Leia said.

"There is also a large number of offworlders on Alderaan at the time of... at the time," Rieekan mentioned.

Leia felt her heart sink. "Good goddesses," she whispered. "Tourists. Students. Immigrants. Of course."

Rieekan nodded.

"Do they want- what are those worlds doing? I'll have to contact them."

"There's nothing they can want from us," Rieekan shrugged. "Daleria had several school groups visiting. They are playing it up in the press, pictures and stories with the names. There's a call for retribution.

"Too many innocents," Rieekan said. "One result is it has expanded the war."

Leia put her face in her palm. "This damned war," she swore. It was a relief she wasn't the only one who wanted to count their dead, but if Alderaan was targeted than it should have only been Alderaan to suffer.

It was too overwhelming. And the offworld Alderaani, their reaction, if true, hurt. Was it possible, to become less of something? "I don't know why... I thought this place would be for solidarity...but it's so small... That our cultural identity would be... But it's business as usual, isn't it?" She lifted her head to Rieekan. "Except for the ones who don't have a change of clothes or money to exchange. We're reaching the desperate ones. And for those who do have, they don't ask the Empire; Palpatine has hardly addressed Alderaan in public. And he makes it seem as if the Alliance is inconsequential."

"Everything is uncertain," Rieekan agreed. "I wish we had a way to see into the future, to see if it's worth all this struggle."

"And if you learned it wasn't? Would you quit?" Leia said sharply. "I wouldn't. A fight may be lost, Carlist, but it's there for someone else to take up later. That is the message of history."

Rieekan bowed his head. "Of course you are right, Your Highness."

Leia stopped the discussion with a curt nod. It was the only thing that was certain. Numbers were too high or too low, the submoon was open but uninviting. She was proud of her role but she would tell her father war wasn't the course to pursue. Her god's eye view that would witness a planet's destruction gave her its infinite past, and beyond it she had the future. Not an outcome, but a knowledge. One had to struggle for peace. Many would die for the idea. But entropy worked on peace. Peace could not last.

It may not come in her lifetime, but the fight was always meant to be passed on to someone else. _Goddesses, you made the queen mortal. _It was beings that killed peace, but it was beings that fought to restore it.

* * *

She fretted over the arrival. Sleep was a faithful friend but it fled, and on her cot she pictured a group disembarking, looking around at the darkness, placing headlamps over their foreheads... What they needed couldn't be held in their hands but had to be tucked into their hearts. Was any being or agency equipped to deliver such a thing?

She didn't understand why the CTC was sending a recovery corp. It wasn't as if they needed to search, or make rescue. There was no rubble to clear away. No threat of disease. It seemed... a traditional response to disaster. Useless in the face of this new one, a whole planet's loss.

The Alliance's response was military. General Rieekan was in charge of daily operations on Buteral but also the defense of the submoon. Several fighter squadrons were due in, just in case. Tensions were high. Emperor Palpatine's only public speech since the destruction was in repsonse to Mon Mothma's declaration of war. He informed the galaxy that any system that left the Empire would be punished, and he had made good on his word by ordering strikes against Chandrila and Duros. The Alliance had rushed in to help defend, but alongside the large planetary navies they just looked like aid.

It was a clever way to wage war, Leia thought. The Alliance's role was so diminished it hardly seemed there was a war. Chandrila's punishment, compared to the bombing of Corellia, was not directed to the populace but to the governement. The Empire descended upon a system with strong planetary shielding and a large military response, so that on its own, the Alliance looked like an afterthought, a kid playing dress up. The Imperial Navy was superior, in number anyway; but rather than pursue a course of victory, the Empire fought the navy, swatting away the Alliance craft like they were gnats, and then left.

Leia paid attention to the holonews and public perception. It was interesting; fascinating, really, the impression lengthy star battles left on attitude and opinion. The losses were military: pilots and ships. The holonews showed footage of the evidence of battle in space, but it was the the streak of a downed craft burning as it fell through atmosphere, the collection of pieces of wreckage. Citizens' lives were disrupted by the restriction in trade. The war didn't really hit home. It was a nuisance.

A delicate strategy. Insidious. Palpatine had never underestimated the power of public opinion. During his short reign, he had managed to turn slavery into a boon, the Jedi into predators. If the Alliance didn't strike another blow soon, the public would decide the Galactic Civil War existed in the mind of Mon Mothma.

During the day, the Alderaani needs were met. When she lay on her cot at night, they still had to arrive. And she pictured them, their steps unsteady as they disembarked the transport, looking around in the dark. Or would it be the brief period when the sun broke through? Would they hold their left hands against their heart? Were their faces dazed, or grateful, or angry? Would they hear the sea?

At night, they had no needs. Their sustenance came from shock and anger. No need for a change of clothes, for a rubble sweeper, or for a princess. On her cot she saw them snatching up stones, and that's when she couldn't take it anymore. She made herself get up and open the window.

Against the darkness, the only thing the windows were good for was to let in sound. They would be better placed in the roof if their purpose was for light. The darkness was constricting, even with the headlamps, even with the bright glare of the spotlights in the construction zones. The only true thing the beam of her light showed her was there was a lot she _wasn't_ seeing.

If she had to be inside, she was at a window. They were another tradition misunderstood. She liked that they opened; true, the air smelled almost fetid but you got used to it. The wind was refreshing and the sound was wonderful. It was a new role for a window; it formed a relationship with sound rather than sight, and yet that's not why the architect included them.

It was obvious whoever drew up plans for temporary residence had never bothered to visit Buteral. The construction was bland and familiar. The windows were useless. There was no other word for it.

"There is. I have one," Major Klander was munching on a free muffin when Leia uttered the thought aloud. "Coruscanti," was his word.

Imperial? Leia wondered, interested in the statement, for Coruscant was the ancient planet on which Palpatine placed his throne. The walls of the buildings in Imperial City were often entire sheets of clear duroglass. It was some indication of the evolution of residence, intriguing to Leia. She had often thought, if she hadn't come to a royal family where politics ran thicker than tradition, she might have become a research historian.

On Alderaan, the feature of a window in housing was old, but not as old as the need for shelter. The earliest structures contained no holes cut into walls. The original purpose was for sentry, Leia had learned; not to enjoy one's relationship with nature, but to watch for one's enemies. The first windows were slits in a wall, only wide enough to point a weapon. As time went by, and peace advanced Alderaan's civilization, the size of windows increased. Rather than provide a protective view outside, the role of windows shifted to bring light inside.

And out from the duroglass viewport of the Death Star, Leia had a god's eye view of all of Alderaan, tranquil in the sea of space...

* * *

Two nights before the first arrival, Leia had a dream. She was in her cell on the Death Star, and the door whisked open to reveal Darth Vader. This was just as it must have happened in real life: Leia recognized the feeling of dread, how she shrank against the wall a little; the icy fear that something awful was about to befall her. And then Vader escorted her; Leia was cold; he was black like a void. He respected her.

He brought her, not to the bridge of the Death Star but the landing pad of Buteral. And there he gripped her shoulders tightly with his fingers, holding her in place. He forced her to watch as the ramp of a shuttle transport slowly opened, and the first Alderaani stepped on Buteral.


	31. Grit and Withdrawal

"What have the past few days meant to you?" Dr. Renzatl wanted to know. She had set two chairs on each side of the window in her quarters.

Leia looked around without answering. It was awkward. Somewhat forced. The rooms were so small. They had decided upon how they would meet before they got here, out of consideration for Leia's privacy. But now she saw it meant Dr. Renzatl was sacrificing a bit of personal space, and Leia didn't want preferential treatment. She hadn't realized it earlier; hadn't thought much about it, which was unlike her. This was space Dr. Renzatl could kick off her shoes in if she was so inclined, but not when there was a Princess to watch. Anyway, Buteral was on Leia's side. The darkness cloaked her. She could move around by herself, and keep to herself.

"You told me you were eager to be productive," Dr. Renzatl reminded Leia.

That was true. Leia remembered saying as much. Was it on Yavin? She remembered feeling that way, too, a drive, an urge. "Yes," she answered. She remembered she had told Dr. Renzatl it would make a difference.

There was nothing in her office. A desk, a few chairs. A computer terminal. Data catalogs, but the order forms were still blank. An open window, Leia's nose numbed to the rank air; the noise of the sea leaving, and when the sun shone, the silence of low tide while she wrote the list of names.

"And the first arrivals are due in," Dr. Renzatl prompted again.

Leia simply looked at her. "Yes," she said again. She should say something, she knew, but nothing seemed worth the effort. Outside, if the window were open, they would hear the roar of the sea, but inside silence grew.

After a while Dr. Renzatl took the tie out of her hair and tossed it onto the small wardrobe. The movement was familiar, somehow. Leia recognized it as a gesture of polite restraint. Impatience, possibly.

"Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl said, and paused to phrase her thoughts carefully. "I have learned that you are a principled person. And strong. You don't back down from a fight. Isn't that why you are here?"

"That's true," Leia allowed. Dr. Renzatl meant the here that was the Rebellion, which was kind and flattering, but Leia answered to the here that meant TRAD.

"This is your fight. This fight is as important as what the pilots are doing, as the soldiers. I would say this even if you weren't the Princess of Alderaan, but perhaps I'd give you more time to be silent. The fact is, you _are_ the Princess and there are others who need you to fight for them."

Leia slid forward in the chair a bit. The words stirred something in her, and she felt- not fragile, but trembly.

"Do you feel pressured by your duties?"

"No," Leia said swiftly. It was not a lie. Pressure was the wrong word. She was burdened. "I know you want me to talk. I told myself I would. It's just, nothing seems to belong in here."

"Nothing is inconsequential. Has anything been on your mind? The refugees?"

Leia spread her hands. "Well, of course."

"I mean in ways other than what you, and we, have been doing here."

Leia got up and stood at the window. She couldn't see out of it. Inside, against the darkness and with a bright light, it reflected her own empty seat and Dr. Renzatl sitting patiently in hers, a small cot and wardrobe behind them. "I don't see," she sighed, "how me thinking about windows, and architecture and a dead fish can help. My thoughts have been- like yours, I imagine. All over the place. Broad. I think about tradition, or... things that become traditional. How little _thought_ goes into things."

Dr. Renaztl's smile was sympathetic. "You see? Quite a list." She made notes on her tablet. "I saw the fish. The one beyond the bridge?"

"Yes." Leia returned to her seat, intrigued that someone else also saw the poor fish. She sat on her hands. "I think it must have gotten caught in the tide."

"And-" Dr. Renzatl started to say as her stylus tapped on the tablet, but then lifted her head to Leia, "tell me why you thought that. As opposed to the fish dying of illness, or even old age."

Leia frowned. "That's possible, I suppose-" she broke off, rejecting the other scenarios outright. "It's this place. Things happen in the dark and under the water. It's harsh and severe."

"Buteral means life is a struggle for survival," Dr. Renzatl suggested.

The statement was a bit dramatic, but when Leia considered it she didn't disagree. "Yes."

"Life is less likely to reach its natural end," the doctor said.

Why was she pressing this, Leia wondered. "Dying in a tidal pool is a natural end," she countered. "Only a terrible one. A difficult one."

"Do you see yourself in old age?"

Leia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She hadn't been sleeping well. "Not really. Not yet. I'm only twenty."

"Lots of twenty year olds see themselves with a partner in their future, or children. A career."

Leia looked toward the glass and watched her reflection shake ito head.

"You don't see yourself as Queen?"

"Of course not," Leia answered without thinking. She watched Dr. Renzatl make a note. "There's a war," she went on, feeling like she needed to explain herself. "I would think that many twenty year olds caught up in it would stop thinking of a future, because the war takes all their immediate attention."

"Alright." Dr. Renzatl let it go. Silence resumed, but Leia could tell the doctor was waiting, conducting their conversation, letting time stipulate a natural break before resuming.

"Of course," Dr. Renzatl resumed quietly, back on the fish, "encountering death is a powerful image for even the most well-adjusted. Are you struggling?"

That one was easy to answer. "No. I couldn't die if I tried."

Dr. Renzatl's brows were up. "What do you mean?"

Leia squirmed, suspecting she'd said something odd. "Since my arrest, nothing has happened. I was supposed to be executed. Then Luke and Han were with me, but they weren't- shielding me, or anything like that. We were all over the Death Star- _it_ could have killed us." Leia was remembering the moving walls of the garbage masher, and the breathless swing over the missing walkway with Luke on a single grappling hook. "Stormtroopers were firing at us. Their bolts were flying everywhere and missing. Then on Yavin, the Death Star was seconds away. And yet here I am."

"Let me be sure I understand you. You're untouchable?"

"Not..." Leia squirmed some more. "Not in that way. Not like I've been blessed with a power, like Luke. He has the Force." She thought of the Graveyard. "Like I don't belong."

"Are you excluded? Unwanted?"

"No." Leia was sure about that, from how gentle the Graveyard appeared from space. "I can join them when... when I'm finished. I suppose after the war is won."

"The dead are waiting. Waiting for their Princess?"

"No." Her brow furrowed, not liking the question. She would like to be Leia when she died, without any responsibility, but for some reason death wouldn't free her from that. She was only the Princess on Alderaan, and so she would remain always. "Not waiting. They are... just there. And, they'll... accept me. I'll join their number, is all." She frowned again. Was that the reason for the list? "I've been doing something here, for the dead."

"Tell me."

"The main project I've been working on, besides meeting with General Rieekan and Major Klander is..." Leia bit her lip, but it was too late to stop. "I'm compiling a list of names." She tried to make it sound official and not as coming from someone who did it because they could concentrate on nothing else. "Of the dead. Anyone I can think of. But, maybe you can- I'm not sure who I'm doing it for. If it's for the refugees, or the dead, or-"

"Perhaps for yourself."

Leia nodded. "Yes. Yes, I want to; it is important. When Alderaan happened-" an odd way to refer to it, Leia recognized, but to state specifically what happened was too difficult, took too long; she would have to start from the beginning- "it hit the galaxy hard. Now, focus is on the war. I don't want all those people forgotten. I don't want it to be a place that's gone; you know, just a planet. I want it to be remembered as a place where so many life forms made a home."

"It sounds like something the other Alderaani would appreciate very much. Maybe they can even help add to your list."

"Yes. I want that. It's the only way I feel I can relate to them." Leia watched Dr. Renzatl make a note on her tablet. "That's what I wanted to ask: is it... normal? to have one's head with the dead more than the living? I go to bed thinking of the dead: My father and the maidens, Tarkin even, and then I wake up and I write their names."

"You've suffered a tremendous shock. You knew that, I'm sure, but often beings don't give themselves enough time to get over it. They don't see how it can snowball."

"I worry that... somehow...it changed me."

"What changed you?"

"The... moment. The moment it happened."

"You mean the destruction. How do you think it changed you?"

"Well," Leia twisted her hands. "When I was with Mon- the Minister. We were having a discussion about the aftermath and what the Alliance response to the refugee crisis should be; it was when she asked me to lead the effort." Leia stopped; the word 'lead' filled her with a bitter irony. Her hands were working by themselves, a fist rubbing the skin between the knuckles of the other. "Mon mentioned, thinking out loud, that she was worried for the those living in Imperial City."

"The Alderaani," the doctor clarified.

Leia rushed on. "And that's- as Senator, that would have occurred to me straight off. It's obvious! If I'd have been anything like myself, I'd have Captain Solo fly there and pull them out ourselves. Why didn't I? Instead I had him take me to the Graveyard."

"Well, I don't know," Dr. Renzatl said mildly. "We can reason that out together. There are obvious reasons why that idea would be dismissed before thinking it. For one, it's Imperial City. The heart of the Empire. A very risky place for you to go-"

"But I didn't even come _close_ to thinking it! And if Luke had come in my cell on the Death Star and said, "Come on, the Emperor is rounding up the refugees!" I'd have dashed out and gone there and done it. As easily as I dashed out and rescued myself." Leia paused, composing herself. "Instead I purchased candles," she concluded.

"Candles?" Dr. Renzatl frowned. "When was this?"

"When I didn't evacuate," Leia said calmly. That was the one thing she did not regret. To everyone else, it was the wrong decision, but Leia would stand by it. "When I left on the _Falcon_."

"I see. What were the candles for?"

"The dead."

Dr. Renzatl's mouth opened. "Ah, for the mourning period, like you told me you and your father observed when your mother died."

"The Month of Flame," Leia nodded. "Actually, I didn't purchase them. Captain Solo bought them." The admission calmed Leia. Han, the outsider. She relaxed her fingers and clasped them in her lap.

"I like your gesture," Dr. Renzatl said. "It's very concrete, very active."

"But it's for the dead. Like, they are more... not important, but I... I understand them better."

"But the candles will be-"

Leia interrupted, "I see that now, on the trip: I was focused on the loss, on the dead. On what can't be changed, or helped. Why can't I bring myself out of the dead?"

"Maybe that's why you write their names. It doesn't sound as if they prey on your mind, Your Highness."

"No. You can't worry about the dead."

"It sounds as if you're trying to come to terms with what happened. What are you feeling when you write their names?"

Leia thought. "Something like focus. Not quite. Like a mapping."

Dr. Renzatl nodded. "Any emotions you are aware of?"

Leia pictured herself at her desk, writing. "They are people I knew, saw. There's a separation. Ones I knew in life, and ones I know now in death."

"A separation? You or them?"

"Me. Like there are different Leias. Different life phases. The before, the after."

"I see." Dr. Renzatl was paying close attention. What's the before like?"

Leia shrugged. "Like a holo."

"It's passive? You just watch it?"

"Yes."

"And what is the after like?"

Leia breathed again. "Things are less clear. There's a... sorrow. It's big."

"So it's not just yours. It's the dead's sorrow?"

"Maybe. Yes. It's... big, as I said. Encompassing. I can't describe it-"

"Gut-wrenching?"

"No. Not like that. It's a..." Leia frowned, the language escaping her. "It's hard to describe. Not nice, but resigned."

"That's an excellent word," Dr. Renzatl said.

"I hate it," Leia said softly.

"But you do it. Why else do you think of them so much?"

Leia needed to hide her quivering chin. She crossed her arms across the breasts and the fingers of one hand played with her upper lip. She didn't really understand the question, but she attempted to answer it. The concentration kept the tears at bay. "Because...there are so many. Because I loved them. Even if I didn't know them. Because it was my home. Because I'm their Princess."

"No one can be prepared for something like this, Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl said quietly.

Outside, Leia knew, the sea rushed over the shoal and fish swam, safe for now.

"It's brand new for you, too, isn't it," Leia said.

"It is," the doctor acknowledged.

The women were silent a moment. Leia reviewed what she had talked about and found her thoughts returning to the offworlders on Coruscant. "And then I found out there was no reason to be concerned," she bitterly.

"No reason-"

"The ones Mon worried about." Leia hadn't noticed what a jump her thoughts had made until she saw the look of confusion on the doctor's face. "I'm calm when I think of the dead. When I write their names. Sad, but calm. I get angry when I think of the living. They aren't coming here. The ones on Coruscant. The Empire isn't touching them. I don't know if they care."

Dr. Renzatl set an elbow on the arm of her chair and rubbed her stylus, eyeing Leia with pursed lips. "The dead represent Alderaan of an earlier time, when a person could leave and live elsewhere but still consider themselves Alderaani. It was the planet that held them together, those off- and on-world."

Leia picked up the thought. "Now it's gone, and we are all scattered, just like pieces of the planet, shooting out after the laser beam."

"Not just a loss of life, but a loss of a way of life."

Leia stared at the doctor intently. She had an uncanny way of summarizing her thoughts in a very concise fashion.

"I can see why you have dwelt on tradition," the doctor was continuing. "The candles are an excellent way of bringing a history and way of life into the present. As Princess," she continued thoughtfully, "I imagine you have to balance what is traditional with what is practical for the refugees."

"I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be Alderaani," Leia admitted. "I'm not so sure what that is anymore. I'm not sure what I need to provide."

"What have you provided for yourself? Perhaps you can measure needs by looking at yourself."

"I've done nothing. I joined the Alliance. Not for the culture, I assure you," Leia said dryly. "I use their clothing. I eat their food. If it wasn't set before me, I'm not sure I would even think to do that."

A look of concern crossed Dr. Renzatl's face. "But you are taking care of yourself?"

"Yes. Look at me," Leia spread her hands. "I'm fine."

Dr. Renzatl had no comment on Leia's appearance. She created another lapse in talk and Leia, who felt a bit more on firmer ground, studied her.

Dr. Renzatl was taller than Leia, and heavier. She sat with one leg crossed over the other wearing the uniform skirt with a casual grace. Old enough to have started and finished raising a family, and Leia wondered where they were. If they were. Finally, Dr. Renzatl spoke. She said, "Tell me about the fish. What you saw."

Leia gathered in her breath. She was good at descriptions. "It was way out. But I could see it was lying on its side. Its fin was- it had tried to, to save itself. Like it was trying to jump, but fish don't move that way and the tide was too fast."

"And?"

"And that's all."

"You remembered enough about the fish to bring it up here. I'd like to hear more. Go on; even if you didn't think it then, think it now."

Leia's knee jiggled quickly. The sight of the fish, or words, were in her chest, rising, but slower than the Tide's Rush.

"Try," Dr. Renzatl encouraged gently.

"I don't know what you want me to add," Leia said, feeling a quickening of her heart's pace. "It was a fish; who knows how many more live in this sea. And it died."

"Do you mean that?" Dr. Renzatl asked. "The image has stayed with you. And even if you think it a trivial matter, we learned much from it, didn't we?"

"I suppose," Leia said slowly. She was wary. Not just of the doctor's probing questions but of how she was answering them.

"We talked about the dead, and a little of the living, and you, your relationship with each. And it all started from the fish. Let me ask you this: what about the fish stayed with you?"

"That it-" Leia struggled to speak. "That it was on its side. That it- I don't think it wanted to die. It had tried, struggled. And, it's like there are rules here; there's no help." Leia was visibly upset. The same raw emotion returned, the same desperate instinct told her she had arrived too late to save it. She made a noise and wiped at her eye. "Ech," she said with a shaky smile. "For a fish!"

Dr. Renzatl smiled quietly. "You deserve the same compassion." She handed Leia a tissue. "What would you do differently?" the doctor's voice was still soft. "If you could."

"I would stay with it."

Dr. Renzatl repeated what Leia said. "You would stay with it." She nodded to herself. "You don't want it to be alone."

"No." Leia remembered how she had cried for the fish. "That's the most important thing."

Dr. Renzatl set her tablet on her lap. Leia hoped the doctor was done, but maybe she was giving Leia a break, letting her realize how lonely she was. She had not made any more notes, but then, Leia noted, the light of the transcriptor had been showing green this whole time. Still, she was patient, and Leia took advantage of the pause, bracing herself, rubbing her palms along her thighs for when they started up again. She wanted to speak, to break her own tension, to cross a boundary she knew she wasn't supposed to cross.

Dr. Renzatl had seen the fish. Carlist Rieekan sat with Leia on the bridge and didn't even comment on the snails. Dr. Renzatl had seen the fish, and maybe it meant she had encountered death, too.

The doctor switched which leg crossed the other and read over her notes. Leia watched her lowered eyes move across the screen, too fast to be reading. She was thinking, and now Leia gave her time. She felt- she knew she had moved the doctor, hit her with something she didn't normally meet in her line of work. It changed their dynamic. The doctor was working, not just sitting there sucking the words out of Leia, sucking up whatever Leia was clinging to. It was work, the same as when Major Klander asked about altar offerings, or when she and Han browsed the shelves of a general store, counting candles.

Finally, Dr. Renzatl gave Leia a sly smile. "I'm curious what you thought about windows," she said.

Leia's laugh was weepy. She felt drained. "I could deliver a lecture on the history of windows," she said. "I enjoy architecture. It's almost a hobby."

"What about them, though?" Dr. Renzatl turned her face to the black glass, waggling her eyebrows at it as she greeted her own reflection.

"Well, for as long as the darkness lasts here, I was thinking the windows are almost unnecessary."

Dr. Renzatl reached out and tapped the window. "They certainly don't provide much of a view."

"I like the ones here, don't get me wrong," Leia said. "I open them to hear the sea."

Dr. Renzatl seemed genuinely intrigued. "So the window here isn't really the same as a window elsewhere."

That was true enough. "Windows are a typical feature in most residences, but whoever planned these buildings never bothered to learn how atypical Buteral is."

"This connects with your thoughts on tradition as well. What's typical can become traditional. Or vice versa?"

Leia nodded.

"Have you drawn a conclusion?" Dr. Renzatl asked her.

Leia shrugged. She didn't know whehter Dr. Renzatl thought she was making a point. "It's up to us. We can't let a designer sitting at a desk on someplace like Shino-ak decide we need windows for light and the view. We have to upset his version of tradition and make a new one. Either that, or get rid of the window."

"Ah." Dr. Renzatl seemed unfairly satisfied, considering all the work she had put Leia through. "You see, you had your own answers already, but you disguised it with windows. You just needed the sounding board." She stood up. "That's good work. We can be finished for the day."

Leia stood too, a little dazed. The conversation earlier was sluggish and extracting; now it suddenly raced ahead, bouncing from subject to subject. Or had it? Leia felt like a student who'd been shouldered with a weighty homework assignment.

Dr. Renzatl escorted Leia to the door. As Leia passed through it, Dr. Renzatl remained on the other side of the threshold. "Thank you for tonight, Your Highness. You might feel fatigued," she cautioned. "Or emotionally sore."

Leia had her own phrase. "Beaten up."

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "Even the patient who learns to walk again has to fight through the pain. I'll see you next week. Good night."

"Good night." Leia faced the corridor. She usually walked the bridge some at night, but she decided to go to her quarters.


	32. Observations, VIII

As a girl, Albrina Renzatl lived down-city. Not everybody did; Corellia's largest employers were the shipyards, and many workers stayed in orbit rather than make the costly commute each day. Her father was a banker, and she came along at a time when Corellia still enjoyed an economic boon. Her family home was in an old neighborhood, built long before it was common to live above the planet, and the space lanes were hidden above a wide canopy of carefully planted trees. Some of her friends were walked to school by Wookiee slaves, and most, Albrina's family included, owned a house at the shore.

She was thinking about her childhood home now as she walked a durowood bridge over the black waters of Buteral. Down-city the houses were large and the lots small; the structures were several hundred years old but modernized on the inside. The houses themselves announced a community. It didn't matter who lived inside. Outside they were all in it together. The homes presented themselves the same distance from the tree line. Up and down the pedestrian lane it was the same; an equality, a togetherness that felt unique to her childhood, and even though she continued to gravitate toward cities as her choice of residence, none of them felt the same. Perhaps she kept looking for that childhood innocence that disappeared.

All of a sudden, Albrina realized it: she wouldn't return to Corellia. She had never thought it out loud before, and she was a little surprised at the finality of the statement, but there it was. And she decided it was time to sell the shore house she'd inherited after her mother and sister and three nephews died. She hadn't even bothered to stay there when she returned after the bombing. Not even to go for a couple of days, rest up, recover. It was far, for one thing, from where she was working with the children in the orphanages. And for another, it wouldn't feel the same. It would... mock her. _Remember_, she could picture it telling her, _how you ran and swam and didn't have a care, and look what happened._

She had never lived in a place like Buteral. Or Yavin, for that matter; being with the Alliance was certainly providing a scope of experience she would not normally seek out for herself. Construction did nothing to make it look less wild, and the water and the odd mountain range were like siblings.

Funny, how self-centered a being could be. She once had a discussion with Jaf Klander about that. His specialty, very unusual for a human, was winged compound-eyed. No doubt the choice arose from his homeworld, somewhere in the Outer Rim. As a girl, she had thought of the ocean as waiting for her family to come to the shore house. She and her sister would drop their bags as soon as they could, and run down to the sand with their arms outspread, shouting, "We're here!"

Buteral tolerated its visitors, Albrina thought. She palmed the door to her office, the light of her head lamp piercing the room until she activated the light system. She deposited the lamp on the corner of a shelf. She had to remind herself to not to toss it somewhere. General Dodonna had not been too pleased when she requested a new one, having broken the glass after tossing it casually on her desk.

Albrina's carried two items from home, no matter where her office was located. They were packed with her files. The first was a unit of two blackened pieces of brick she used to prop up the long line of data manuals, and the other was a holocube that sat on her desk. It contained family holos. Pictures of her sister and nephews, and several of her husband.

Her husband's young eyes stared back at her. She remembered that time of her life. The promise, the hope. The other pictures were similar, though she chose ones that showed him age a bit, since she had, too. The most recent was taken, she reckoned, two years before his death. Maybe the cancer was growing in him but in the picture it wasn't visible. She hadn't included a picture from after the diagnosis. She was willing to bet she'd stopped taking them.

The amount of time they were married never varied: seventeen years. But the time that passed since his death grew slowly larger. Fourteen years now.

She turned around and stood before the brick ends. She picked one up, holding the data manuals back with the other hand to be sure they wouldn't fall. If she never went back, this was all she had? Was it enough? Was it right?

What if this was all there was, like Princess Leia and Alderaan, Albrina wondered. It was different, wasn't it. She didn't harbor any ill will toward her homeplanet. It was the Empire that changed it for her, made it a place of wreckage and sadness. That's why she had joined the Rebellion. Her skills couldn't really help fight a war, but the hope was those skills made for a better peace.

She should go back. She was fortunate to be able to. If she considered the ones who were coming to Buteral, she was very fortunate indeed.

Albrina sighed, and replaced the piece of brick. She rubbed the dust from it off on her uniform skirt, and gave her husband's time-captured face a doleful glance.

It was that brief time called Sun's Peak. The light was dim but the seabed was visible. Princess Leia was in her office, Albrina knew. Writing the names. When darkness fell- Albrina checked her chrono and saw there was still one hour forty five minutes til Tide's Rush- the Princess would emerge.

Jaf had a lot of fun with the name. "Sun's Peak, like the mountains?" he had wondered. "It's not the mountains that hide the sun," he scoffed. "Better Sun's Peek. Spelled P-e-e-k. Right? Because it's hardly here. Or, it could be Sun's Pique. P-i-q-u-e. I like that one," he declared. "It never feels enough. Not enough light and not enough duration; it's irritating."

His office was next door, and she could hear him through the thin walls talking to a droid. Adjusting the volume control, Albrina started the transcription, holding her fingers ready over a keyboard to annotate certain sections.

_"What have the past few days meant to you?" _her voice said, and she knew it would be a moment for Princess Leia answered.


	33. Renaissance, I

It hit her all of a sudden. What to do.

Her eyes had flown open; something had woken her up. The idea, she supposed, but what put it in her head-

Quickly, she dressed, mind separated from body. She welcomed the idea; reviewed it for weakness and flaws while her hair went up and the uniform covered her form. It didn't matter where it came from, but she was learning, slowly, to ask why of herself. If she didn't, she looked cockily at her reflection as she sonicked her teeth, Dr. Renzatl would. So she might as well have the answer by herself.

There had been a flurry of unconnected events that did it, Leia thought. And then they all came together like a single clap.

First, the Alliance fighter squadrons arrived. There wasn't enough land to hold three squadrons, so they docked out in orbit with the large Calamari cruisers. Leia thought it must look impressive out in orbit, all those ships hovering like stars, and wandered into the small control room to see.

She was disappointed. The interactive battle screen from where she attended the Battle of Yavin was elsewhere. Only two at a time worked a shift monitoring communications. They wore headsets and paid her no mind. General Dodonna was at another table, with numerous screens in front of him. He half-rose when he saw Leia but she signaled with her hand for him to remain seated. She hadn't quite gotten him to stop greeting her as royalty.

"Your Highness," he said.

She, on the other hand, always called him by his military title. "General Rieekan," she answered. "How is it up there?"

The General gestured to the comm officer, who unplugged his headset and allowed the ship-to-ship chatter to be heard.

"-thirty degrees starboard," someone said.

"It's calm so far," General Rieekan told her. "The CTC ships are approaching atmo. That's all they see."

"Hey," another voice called. "How does an Imp with a stutter say the alphabet?"

There was a staticky groan in answer.

"A-B-C-T-C-T-C," the joker sang.

"Are they alert?" Leia asked General Rieekan sharply as a few howled like gundarks.

He chuckled. "They're like this all the time."

"Quit it," a soft, uncommanding voice demanded.

"You said it, Boss," someone else said. "That joke should not have been said out loud."

"Or thought of," another put in.

"Have some respect," the soft voice said, and Leia's eyes did something odd. They flashed, or rolled, or widened; she couldn't say but the voice triggered a response.

"Get it, Rogue One? A-B-C-T-"

"I'm sorry I got it, Janson. Now stay sharp."

"Always am, Boss."

"Who is Rogue One?" Leia asked General Rieekan.

"Squad Leader," the general answered. He checked a screen. "Commander Skywalker is his name." He watched Leia smile. "Do you know him?"

She couldn't stop smiling. "I do," she said.

"Here they come," someone warned.

Leia held her breath, the same tension ridiculously filling her as when the Death Star was seconds away.

"Buteral," Rogue One- Luke- informed; oh, how wonderful, Leia thought. He sounded like Luke but he also sounded... official. "Buteral, two ships approaching. One, large freighter class and the other passenger class."

"I like their brand," someone commented. "A star field."

General Rieekan was about to answer Rogue One, but Leia touched his arm and he passed her the mic with that sad smile.

"Acknowledged, Rogue Squadron," Leia said into it. "Proceed." She wasn't sure what the correct response was but a quick glance at General Rieekan showed her answer was adequate.

"That ain't no brand," another scoffed. "It's the CTC. Everyone knows it."

"Leia?" Luke called.

"That's what makes it a brand," the first argued.

"Leia, is that you?"

"It's a logo," another said. "Ain't that the word for it? When you see the star field it's the CTC."

"Yes, it's me, Luke. I'm on Buteral."

"A-B-C-"

"Rogue One's got a _gir_lfrieeeend."

"Boys," Luke warned. "Shut up. We got work to do. Give 'em room and let's see if anyone followed them. Sorry, Buteral," he tossed out, then added, excitement in his voice, "Gods, Leia, I can't wait to see you! I'll get with you later."

Several sang it now. "Rogue Ones' got a girlf-"

"I'll have none of that," Luke told his squadron. "And anyway who says that's a girl?"

Leia laughed lightly. It was funny; funnier still because how many Leias were there not attached to a title in the Alliance? It was definitely a retort Han would throw out, and maybe these men Luke flew with. She was glad to see he was holding his own, but she hoped he hadn't lost the qualities that made him Luke.

"Now, ship to ship disabled," Luke continued. "I'm serious now. Make sure the Empire doesn't slip in."

General Rieekan was looking at Leia, whose smile had grown softer. "With a name like that, he's not Alderaani," he observed.

"He was on the Death Star with me," she told him. "He came with General Kenobi."

"Oh," something was dawning over Rieekan's face, "is he the one-"

"Yes," Leia said, though she didn't know to which rumor Rieekan was referring. The General was installed after the Battle of Yavin. Had he heard about the one who blew up the Death Star? Or the one with the Force?

The CTC had arrived with its response crew. That was the second factor, after Luke's unexpected appearance. The CTC were a group of beings trained for disaster, able to feel the compassion and see the need to help, but at the same time able to separate themselves from it. Alderaan had contributed to it at times of natural disaster or refugee crisis. It was a model Leia admired.

The landing occurred uneventfully, to everyone's relief, though General Rieekan asked for the continued presence of- this was for Leia's benefit, she knew- Rogue Squadron, just in case.

Rieekan did turn away the freighter and the heavy equipment loaded in it, because there was no place on Buteral to land it, much less a need for it, but he allowed the medical team and the social workers. They brought water and ration bars too, which went out on the snack bar since the increased personnel taxed the provisions of the Alliance. The passenger shuttle lifted off quickly to join the Calamari cruisers in orbit and wait for the mission to be done.

Emperor Palpatine was quoted in the holo press. Typically, he dismissed the CTC's efforts. "What is left of Alderaan will be absorbed into the Empire. They will see there was no reason for a queen while I am their Emperor."

This, the last of the elements that built her idea, had a powerful effect on Leia. She was so agitated by the comments that she couldn't work at all, not even add to her list of names. She appeared unscheduled at Dr. Renzatl's office and told her about it. Asked if the doctor was aware of it, summarized it, ranted and paced, her arms gesturing angrily.

"I'm ready to propose a mission to Imperial City for his assassination," she said for the third time. "They won't do it, of course. It's disgusting. It's vile. I see his face and all I do is hate. It was his Death Star!"

"It was," Dr. Renzatl agreed quietly. "Your Highness, you've been here..." she checked the chrono, "near twenty minutes and you haven't sat down yet. You've mentioned the Emperor's face four times and the Death Star six."

Leia stopped her pacing. She felt transparent. She stood and panted, listening for the echo of her words, and horrified, saw Dr. Renzatl's scratch counts were not invented. Too, she knew whatever else she did after leaving the office, she would still rail against the Emperor.

"I do have a suggestion," Dr. Renzatl was saying. "Something a little different than we've done before." The doctor paused, choosing her words carefully. "Now then. Would you agree, that sometimes when you are with me talking, you hold back a little?"

Leia flinched. "I assure you, I participate-"

Dr. Renzatl held up a hand with a smile. "You do. And you work hard. The mind wants to protect itself, Your Highness, that is all, and this is not easy." She got up and circled around her desk, leaning against it. Leia had still not sat and now they were at eye level.

"It's perfectly natural. I want you to do something you might find difficult, though it is a different approach only for me. You are a strong woman and a constant leader. Since that is your identity you bring that to this office; I imagine a Princess didn't reveal much personally even in the happiest of times."

Leia hated when Dr. Renzatl made observations like that. They made her feel so... formed. Lonely.

"What I am saying is sometimes when you get close to something, you skirt away. Besides the natural tendency for the mind to defend itself, and therefor to not admit, your training prevents you from even revealing. I want for you to allow yourself to get close to it in a setting where you are comfortable and unchallenged, where you might find yourself more willing to edge closer, so to speak."

Leia spoke slowly. "What do you mean? Like, in a bath? Go under hypnosis?" She was wary.

"Not quite." The doctor smiled again. "When we talk, we return to the Death Star quite a bit."

"Yes," Leia frowned. "It was where everything happened."

"Yes. It was. You have told me all about your rescue. And Darth Vader. You worry that it changed you, that it defined you."

Leia barely nodded. It was all true. Gods, what was it, barely a month now, and she felt so naive.

"But we haven't reached the point yet of how, of what. I think it's time we did," Dr. Renzatl was gentle but firm. "I think, judging by- You had a very strong reaction to Palpatine's statement."

"Yes," Leia admitted. Anger flared like a lit match. She started up again. "Because he-"

Dr. Renzatl stopped her. "That you recognize the reaction as a symptom is intelligent. You were right to come here and I'm glad you did.

But, you are picking at the symptom. Do you see? Nothing today has helped dissipate the anger or the despair. If anything, it grows."

"Then..." Leia frowned, "what?"

"I haven't asked you to do this yet, but I think we have come to it. I want you to revisit the Death Star. Your experience, in its entirety."

Leia's shoulders retreated.

"Not now, not with me. With yourself. All of it. Not just when you were beating Darth Vader or rescuing Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo." Dr. Renzatl paused. "You could tell it to yourself in the bath, if you like. To the sea, because I know you value its wild power. If you have someone you value as a friend."

Dr. Renzatl watched Leia carefully. "Start passively," she coached, "as a series of events that you merely report. When you come to some emotion, and you start to backtrack, start again. All I ask is that you are aware of when you backtrack, and I think you have learned to recognize that."

"I don't see..."

"You're backtracking," Dr. Renzatl said with a smile.

Still wary, but Leia half-smiled, for it was nice someone knew her so well. "When?" she asked.

"Whenever you are ready. And it's not contingent on anything else we talk about. You don't have to skip our regular times."

"All right," Leia begrudgingly agreed. All she knew when she left the doctor's office was that she felt deflated. Not a good feeling, but at least not consumed by anger. Still, she couldn't work. She sat at her desk, the fingers of one hand playing with her lips, staring out the window.

* * *

"I wish I could _see_ you," Luke complained, his voice through the comm a little tinny sounding.

"Land your X-Wing," Leia suggested. "There's a space on the landing pad for one ship. Although, I hear a supply freighter is due in, so it can only be a visit."

"That's fine. I'll have duty. But I'm off now. Think I can clear the use of an Alliance craft for personal needs? And I just have two hours," he added morosely.

"Make it about duty," Leia suggested. "You're a commander. Tell them you have info for Rieekan and comm is too risky."

"I guess," Luke said. "That's sneaky. Have you seen Han or something?"

Leia laughed. "Just come," she said.

She took a big breath when she disconnected. Happy to see him, nervous too. Luke was on the Death Star with her.

* * *

Buteral wasn't armed. Now that the CTC was here, it was defended, and though it was part of the Alliance, it wasn't a base. More a satellite office of a department. They weren't hidden. Communications with the rest of the Alliance went through Rieekan first, and were coded. The rest was open.

Leia was finally using her computer, and as she worked she let the sound of the sea coming in through the open window fortify her. She had a protocol droid place the entry level calls. There was no getting through to the highest levels directly, and the Princess Leia of old would never have made such a call herself, not even in the happiest of times.

Finally, she was through to the Chair of the IDIT, the Imperial Deposits InsuranceTrust, or Idiot as many liked to call it.

She felt like ice flowed in her blood, so different from how Palpatine's statement made her feel. She had him now. Not just for Alderaan, but for the Death Star.

"There's nothing to discuss, Chairman Izdronski," Leia said coolly. "The Bank of Alderaan was part of the Imperial Banking System. It was a member of the IDIT."

"Yes, but-"

Leia was frank. It didn't bother her to say it. "The bank is failed. By Emperor Palpatine's own action."

"The corporate headquarters for the Bank of Alderaan is in Imperial City," the chairman blustered. "As far as I know, it is open. I could go there now."

"And what? Open an account?" The Bank of Alderaan's monies are mainly invested in Alderaan. From money obtained from her citizens. The operating system of accounts for the bank was on Alderaan. And Alderaan no longer exists. Therefore, the Bank of Alderaan is failed."

"Princess Leia-"

"Are you telling me that when a citizen of Alderaan- there are a great number living in Imperial City who most likely banked with the Bank of Alderaan-" Leia broke off a moment, for she was certain it had to have happened already. It had been near a month. Surely, they would need to pay a bill, buy some food.

"What are they told?" she snapped. "Have you bought their silence?"

She could hear the chairman breathing on the other end of the comm call.

"There are citizens of Alderaan alive, Chairman, who have money invested in their bank, which, through the actions of the government under which they live, has been destroyed. This same government has a trust in place to maintain the financial stability of its citizens should a bank fail. Therefore, as established by the IDIC, of which you are chair, you owe the citizens of Alderaan the amount they owned and allowed to be invested with the Imperial Banking System."

The chairman got nasty. "If the records are destroyed the citizens can't prove what they had."

"I'm sure many have statements delivered through the holoweb." Leia brought in the cold, rank air of Buteral through her nostrils. "Mark my words, Chairman. The Empire will pay."


	34. Renaissance, II

Luke looked almost as he had when she last saw him. That orange flight suit. He shook his hair free when he took the helmet off, and handed it to a tech. She wondered as he bounded down the ladder how he got away with his hair- it was longer than it should be. And apparently the twin suns of Tatooine bleached it, for she remembered him as being much blonder. His hair had darkened.

But he didn't gape as he had on Yavin, his eyes wide and amazed. He wasn't the same youth he was on the Death Star, and Leia found herself expecting that innocence, but it was gone. He did say, after releasing her from a natural hug, "Man, what is this place?"

"Low tide right now," Leia told him and laughed as he was pinching his nose against the smell. "It was dark when I landed. Do the mountains continue all over the submoon?"

Luke was peeling off his flight suit. "Yeah," he told her. Underneath he wore a dull green shirt with short sleeves, and the regulation pants. "There's a cluster at a pole. Like that's where they started. It's cold," he mentioned suddenly. "But the guys tell me I say everywhere is cold."

"It's not that bad," Leia smiled. "I can probably round up a jacket for you."

"I'll be all right. It's not _that_ cold." He let her take the lead and they started for the durowood bridge. She waited as he drifted toward the railing, hovering to take a lingering look at the muck. He returned to her, remarking only, "The galaxy is an amazing thing."

"It is," Leia agreed, and thought of Alderaan. Never being off his homeworld taught Luke that. Leia learned it when she lost hers.

Except... wasn't the perspective off? Standing on the bridge of the Death Star, looking out at planets, moons, and stars,_ that's_ where one could barely grasp the... the untouchableness, the beyondness of the galaxy. The timelessness. A god's eye view. Tarkin hadn't. Luke looked down on some snails crawling in muck and he understood, but Tarkin looked out and gave the order to fire.

"Have you seen much war?" Leia asked as they walked.

Luke made a noise. "The back end. The Empire might make a show of gearing up at one system, so Dodonna sends us out, but the Empire hits another. So we show up for clean-up. Palpatine must have a plan, because he sure could end us if he wanted to."

Leia frowned. "We're scattered. He'd have to find us all first."

"There's pilots," Luke went on, "just not enough ships. I think, actually, that's what stops him." He cocked his head, serious but a little playful. "I got a theory. Want to hear it?"

Leia smiled. Luke had been all questions after the Death Star. "What's your theory?"

"It's the up-from-the-ground thing. What do you call that?"

Leia hazarded a guess. "A grass roots movement?"

"That's it," Luke nodded. "There's been an upsurge in enlistments since the Death Star. It's the beings. The beings who feel the burden of war. The systems too, but none of them want to become the next Alderaan, you know? Wedge says they are dancing the Corellian Blade, whatever that is."

"Oh, that's an old folk dance." Leia had seen it performed several times. "It's from back when they fought with swords. The dancer's feet stay on the narrow blade. It's actually very technical."

"What sense is it to dance on your weapon?" Luke almost scoffed. "Seems it's better in your hand."

"Something about how the weapon is forged?" Leia only dimly knew the history of the dance. "That's what it's about, if I remember correctly. Soft, hot metal and quick, high steps so you don't burn your feet. The dancer was both the warrior and smith, and he added his skill and prowess, and hoped for victory."

The cultural relevance of symbolic dance was obviously lost on Luke. He moved on. "Well, it's why we have more beings than we do ships. It's the beings that are joining; individuals rather than worlds declaring war, and that's hard to stop, don't you think? Palpatine can't pinpoint the spread of talk. Beings want peace, but they don't trust him to bring it."

"Did you know," Leia ventured very carefully, "my father, as both Alderaani and Senator, was torn. Alderaan has war in her history, of course, but the Recent Experiment, our peace- a queen named it that three hundred years ago- has lasted for centuries. My father didn't want war, but he witnessed the fall of the Old Republic. The Purge of the Jedi, too," Leia added thoughtfully, if that would help her defend her father to Luke. "He knew Palpatine," she reminded Luke. "They served in the Senate together. And he came to see Palpatine as genuinely evil."

"Genuinely crazy," Luke said.

Leia shook her head against Luke's childish statement. "That's what convinced him the Emperor should be removed from power, I think. The attack against the Jedi. It was vicious and unnecessary. And he would have done it without war, if he could. The bombing of Corellia was his last straw.

"It strikes me..." Leia went on thoughtfully. "It hurts to say it, but I'm grateful the irony is there for Palpatine to see." Leia paused. "...Alderaan won," she said softly.

"How?" Luke wondered.

It was a moment before Leia could continue. They were near the steps that led from the bridge, and Leia reached out and fingered a vine growing from the edge of the mountain, keeping her from turning toward Luke. "If the beings will see an end to the war so there is no more war... Our peaceful ways," she smiled sadly. "They continue."

"Something else will continue out of this, Leia," Luke said. He was uncomfortable but trying to be soothing. "You've got to believe that."

"How?" To her own ears, Leia sounded bitterly resigned and instantly regretted speaking.

"I'm not sure," Luke said honestly. He looked around in the fading light at the construction. "You've all had a... a change thrust on you." His chin gestured at a darkened platform, and she knew he meant the refugees. "Change isn't the right word. I know you don't want to think of it like that, but-"

"It's true, anyway."

Luke nodded at her soft statement. "- there's been a change. And. It's hard to see from here, in the middle of it, but... It's not over. It's not done."

"Still changing."

"Yeah."

"I wonder how you know when it's done."

"I don't know," Luke said. "Maybe never."

Leia shifted the conversation. She pointed out the large platform built around two narrow humps of mountain. "They lopped off the top of those two mountains. See? And set durocrete surrounding them. I think Riekkan said it's almost three acres. There'll be a courtyard, and a recreation area."

"They've seen war," Luke said of the refugees. "Without having seen war. Are you ready?"

Leia smiled bravely. "We've all been working hard," she said. "And they have to be brought as soon as possible."

Luke's eyes continued to trace the bridges that connected the narrow mountains. "Some will like it," he said wisely, "and some won't." He looked at Leia frankly. "Humans are funny like that. We can have all kinds of reactions."

It was a curious thing to say, and Leia didn't know how to answer Luke. To her, any Alderaani reaction would be toward the Alliance, as if they had lost all free will because their planet was destroyed. Luke was giving them credit for being individuals. In all the trauma, it was a generosity she had forgotten. It was freeing to have it again.

They climbed the steps up to the entryway. Inside, the conference room off the snack counter was available. Leia indicated he could take some food if he was hungry. He grabbed a napkin and two muffins, now a rare commodity on Buteral since their numbers had grown and a muffin was everyone's favorite. Major Klander would bemoan the decrease in number, Leia knew. Luke also grabbed a container of water, and she smiled to see him read the label carefully.

They settled around the table. Leia sat with her face cupped between her hands, elbows on the table, and watched Luke while he ate. There was a comfortable silence between them.

"It's about time we saw each other again," Luke said when one was finished, nodding to the napkin. "It's..." he thought, "right."

Leia laughed at him. "I don't think it's a coincidence, Luke. We're both in the Alliance."

"Yeah, but we haven't been together. We should be, just because of what we went through on the Death Star. There aren't many around who can say that. Right? Just you and me, and Han and Chewie, and Darth Vader, I guess, if we're going to look at both sides."

"Do you still have all those questions?" Leia asked.

Luke drank water. "Haven't answered a damn one. Got a new one: why is Darth Vader looking so hard for me?"

"Is he?"

"Ramped up his efforts. Gets in the way of Rogue Squadron. Dodonna won't send us in to the really hotbeds. 'Cause of me."

"Hmm," Leia frowned. "I wonder why?"

"Hell bent on revenge, I think," Luke declared. "Why else?"

Leia considered. It was possible, but it didn't feel right. Luke may have been the one to blow up the Death Star, but she was the one who obtained the stolen plans. It seemed Vader should include her, but he didn't. "I don't know," she said. "Unless that's what the Emperor ordered him. I don't think he really cared for the Death Star."

"He defended it! Flew in the trenches after us!" Luke said, the memory of the battle still warm. "Isn't that why you were arrested in the first place?"

Leia nodded, speaking softly. "He was to retrieve the plans from me. But. When it was used. He was there. And he said nothing. I don't think he approved of the _idea_ of the Death Star, let alone the actual thing."

"Huh," Luke said, and lapsed into thought. "Sometimes," he began after a moment, "I have to remind myself: _Did we really_\- Right?" He looked at her for confirmation. "Or if I'm by myself, doing something normal, I'll think, _I was on the Death Star_."

"You think about it?" Leia moved her hands behind her neck. They felt warm.

"All the time. And everything that led up to it or followed it. You?"

"What do you think about?"

Luke pressed on a crumb of the muffin with his finger and captured it. "Ben, mostly. And Vader."

"Mm," Leia said.

"How close I came."

"Close to dying? or close to-"

"Close to realizing who I was." Luke tore the second muffin in half and started to eat it.

Leia's neck was starting to ache from the pressure of her hands. She moved one palm to her jaw and let her face rest in it. The Death Star had granted Luke a purpose, or an identity he desired, she reflected. But then, she reminded herself, it had cost him his aunt and uncle. And the only lead he had to this new identity.

"Maybe it's because of the Force," Leia suddenly said. "Vader. He saw you with General Kenobi."

"He saw Han, too. And Chewie."

"Yes. But you have a lightsaber. And, I don't know, maybe a Force user can sense it in another?"

"Dodonna told me Vader also tracks down Jedi that escaped the Purge. It's publicized every time one is killed. He told me the Alliance would like to reach them first, but there's been no leads."

"It's taking Vader long enough," Leia said. "The Purge was what, twenty years ago?"

"And he missed Ben," Luke added. "I wonder if he's missed others."

"I think it's obvious he has," Leia said.

Luke seemed to daydream a moment. Then he returned to Leia. "That mission I can understand. A Jedi, even one, is a threat. But what could he want with me? I'm untrained. And without Ben, it looks like I'll stay that way."

Luke was frustrated. That was easy to see. He fell into his own thoughts, grumbling and discontent, and Leia regarded him. All the things he had said since his landing, still immature and self-involved, but also full of wisdom; flashes of sagacity that couldn't have been earned by a twenty year old farmer.

"Train yourself," Leia said. It wasn't a suggestion.

Luke sniffed. "How?"

"You tell me I have to believe in the continued life of Alderaan, but you won't believe in yourself?"

"It's differ-"

"No. It's not, Luke. You have the Force. You can _feel _it. You used it! You turned off your targeting scope, remember?"

Luke squirmed. "I thought I heard Ben."

"And why would you do that?" Leia was becoming impatient with Luke's resistance. "How would you hear him? Was he in the cockpit with you? Sitting on your lap?" Leia challenged, and felt a small measure of victory as Luke smiled.

He finally recognized his excuses and laughed lightly. "I just... I heard his voice," Luke said.

"General Kenobi was dead, Luke," Leia reminded him gently. "What you heard was the Force, in the form of his voice."

"I heard it before, too."

"Listen for him, then. And you can train yourself."

"On the Death Star, after... after it happened, he told me to run."

"When everyone was shooting at us? You heard him?"

Luke nodded at the table, the sad smile of memory on his lips. "You and Han were yelling at me. The _Falcon_ powered up. Blaster bolts were everywhere. It was noisy. And Ben said, _Run, Luke._"

He hadn't told anyone else, Leia was sure. And he was saying it now, not just to inform her, but to convince himself.

"It was good advice," Leia said softly, and covered his hand briefly with her own. "You gave me good advice earlier. You're smart. Don't wait for something to happen. Kenobi gave you your first steps. Don't toddle. Run." She sat back against her seat. "Because what else can you do?"

Luke nodded. "Nothing," he said. "Die," he added with a smile.

"Right." Leia did not smile. She looked out the window and then at her chrono. It confirmed what she saw, or didn't see, out the dark window. "Tide's rush is soon. Let's go outside. You should see it."

Luke edged along the snack counter. "You have better food than us. What's this?" He held up a soft, dark-colored orb with bright speckles.

"Jokla fruit," Leia answered.

"Is it good?"

Leia was patting the headlamp attached to her belt to be sure she carried it, though she knew she did. "It's juicy."

Luke pocketed the fruit. "I'll try it," and followed her outside.

She knew he had stopped in his tracks. Turning to face him, the light wasn't enough to show her he had blue eyes, and his voice was weak against the roar of the sea. He called her name.

Amused, Leia walked back and grabbed his wrist. Luke had dropped into a fighter's stance, weight planted firmly over his thighs, knees bent. He acted like the noise was going to cause the ground beneath his feet to crumble. She pointed past the bridge so he could see the rapidly diminishing line of horizon and spoke into his ear. "Tide's rush," she said.

"I can't see anything," he shouted.

"It won't be light for another twenty hours," she yelled back.

"I can't hear, either!"

"Put this on." Leia pressed her headlamp into his hands and waited for Luke to activate the beam. He walked to the railing, swiveling his head down and up, side to side.

She always left her office at Tide's rush. The darkness didn't bother her, and the roar of the rushing waters calmed quickly, though the water remained high and in constant motion.

She sat on the bridge as she had her first night, swinging her legs over the edge. Luke joined her.

"What are we doing?" he asked loudly.

"Waiting," she answered into his ear, and he didn't try to talk anymore. It would be a few minutes, Leia knew. The swell of the water and the darkness was sudden, though it must have spent the light time gathering force.

In between the rhythm of the waves, conversation would be possible. "Do you have time?" Leia asked.

"Yeah," Luke checked his chrono. "It's like it's own entity," he said of the water. "Or character. I know there's lots of things that make up the sea, but it seems separate from them."

"Like the galaxy," Leia said. "All the life within but it's heedless."

"Maybe." Luke pulled out the piece of fruit, and examined it in the beam of the headlamp. "Why _is_ the food better here?" he wondered.

"I suppose out of consideration for the refugees," Leia said, but it occurred to her she didn't really know, or couldn't compare it to anything. "General Rieekan is Alderaani," she added, though that too was no explanation. "Since the CTC arrived, supplies have gotten low quickly. I hope that delivery arrives before the first shuttle."

"I think it's Han," Luke said, taking a bite of fruit.

Leia focused on the spot of light on the water from Luke's headlamp, and for a second she stopped breathing. "What?"

Luke was examining the jokla, turning his hand in different directions. "The _Falcon_ is making this run. Pretty sure." He wiped juice from his chin with the back of his hand.

"You're just mentioning this now?" Leia said.

Luke grinned. "I actually couldn't wait to tell you."

"Jerk," Leia told him. "You've seen him?"

Luke waited until a wave receded. "Yeah," he said, as if it were natural. "He's around some. Leaves, comes back. Ship's got a few more dents."

There was so much information, and so little, that Leia was rendered speechless. She couldn't decide which angle to tackle. "He- leaves?" she managed.

"And comes back," Luke repeated. He opened the water canister. "He thinks about it too."

The air had grown quieter. The sea was at full height. Waves crashed against the shoal on the other end of the bridge, and from the unfocused beam of light Leia could discern swells of water in front of them.

"Thinks about what?" she asked.

"The Death Star."

"Oh." Leia rubbed her thighs. The notion was strangely appealing to her. "I wonder what he thinks."

Luke lowered the water from his lips. "He's not going to show what he thinks. Not him. But he sticks around. That's how I know."

"Has he joined?"

"No. I heard he was asked. He's still worried about that debt."

"He hasn't paid it off?" Leia sniffed in mild disbelief. Still, a gladness bobbed about in her to hear the news that Han was still around.

"No. I think it's bigger than he lets on."

"Seems foolish not to focus on that," Leia said.

"I told you. It's the Death Star. It hasn't let me go."

"So you think it won't let go of him," Leia observed. "He's different than you, Luke. An outlaw. It was probably just a job to him."

"It was a hard job," Luke said stubbornly.

Leia smiled. She felt like smiling. She didn't want to think about what she had done to earn the punishment of Alderaan, but it did seem something conspired to give her Luke and Han, and at another moment when she needed them.

"So what about the Death Star would not let him go?" she asked teasingly. She wanted to enjoy Luke's visit, share some lightness. "Getting captured in the first place?"

Luke smiled too, enjoying her sly tone. "The tractor beam."

"Not enough reward?"

"How clean and shiny the place was. No dents."

Luke was catching on, and Leia chuckled. "Wearing stormtrooper armor," she proposed.

"The dianoga. _That_ thing truly did not let me go."

"The whole trash compactor. The Death Star showed him how his life has been a pattern of jumping into a pile of garbage."

Luke liked that one. He laughed appreciatively, but the game faded quickly. He returned to his fruit and he and Leia watched the motion of the water. It swayed, she thought, up then down, like a mother rocking an infant.

"So what do you think about?" Luke finally said.

"Me?"

"On the Death Star."

"I think about a lot of things," Leia hedged.

"You have a lot, I suppose," Luke reasoned.

"I think about you," she began, which was not a lie, "and Han. I think about-" Leia stopped. Her father had not been on the Death Star with her. Nor her maidens. As far as she knew. Neither Tarkin nor Vader had bothered to mention what happened to those aboard the _Tantive IV._ And if any were brought to the Death Star as she had been, then...

"Vader?" Luke suggested.

"No." She paused. "Alderaan." Luke had been nothing but honest with her. He deserved the same.

"Of course," Luke said.

"Tarkin."

"Tarkin?" Luke frowned. "I don't..."

"The Moff in charge. I think how it's unfair I didn't get a chance to kill him."

Luke was taken aback. "Oh," he said. "I didn't realize-" He shifted his position on the hard durowood. "Is that what we were- Through the corridors? You were looking-" Luke was growing more and more confused or troubled. "Was that part of your mission?"

Leia clasped her hands and placed them composedly in her lap. "No," she said. "Just the plans. But he's the one who ordered course to Alderaan. He's the one who threatened it if I didn't name the Rebellion location."

"A different form of torture," Luke said, and again Leia's heart stopped a moment. "An intense one. An unfair one."

"He said I was far too trusting." The familiar shame and anger rose in Leia and her hands became fists. "And I want to shoot him and wipe that superior smile off his face."

"You want revenge," Luke understood. "It did get wiped off. He was on the Death Star? At the end?"

"Yes. Alright," Leia relented, "if I can't shoot him, I want to have been able to see the moment he realized he was wrong."

"Yes," Luke agreed. "That would be satisfying. Same as for the Emperor, right?"

"That will also be a fine moment," Leia nodded.

"And Vader," Luke continued. "Once I'm not so terrified of him-" Leia smiled again. "- I want... I don't know. Not revenge, necessarily. Not for Ben. Because Ben knew what he was doing. Except, when I think of Aunt Beru, I do want revenge. But, that's more vague. What I want," and he gazed out at the sea, "is, like you said. I want a moment of realization. Something to show how wrong he was."

What a soul Luke had, Leia thought.

"I want... not the Death Star," Luke was saying. "Because we had that, that kind of ending-"

"And it was the wrong one," Leia concluded for him.

"It was," Luke said.

"It didn't solve as much as we expected." Leia was remembering the moment of victory, the relief she'd felt.

"Or... comfort. It needed to be destroyed, but not for you or for me. For everyone else."

"Of course."

"But for me it felt kind of hollow." Luke started to turn his face to Leia's but remembered the headlamp and stopped. "Nothing can make you feel better, can it?" he seemed to realize.

Leia curved her back, sitting deeper into her rear. She shook her head with a rueful smile. "Thanks, Luke. I'll just run up to Dr. Renzatl and tell her, 'never mind, there's no cure.'"

"Dr.-?"

"Renzatl. From the CBA."

"Oh, 'after the battle, see Renzatl' doctor. She's the one I talked to, I think. Is she here?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll see her if we're around longer. I liked talking to her."

Leia's brows rose. "You did?"

"I just did it once," Luke reacted to her tone of surprise and retreated a bit. "But it helped me."

"How?" Leia asked with interest.

"I was feeling kind of like a death magnet-"

Leia felt so fond of Luke. "A death magnet?" Really, the only quality time she spent with him was on the _Falcon_ after they escaped the Death Star, but she felt closer to him than she had her maidens.

Luke lowered his head modestly. "So high, and so low," he said. "She- kinda gave me a headlamp." He seemed very pleased with his analogy and tapped the band on his forehead. "Learn how to walk without tripping over things I can't see. And I learned, just from that one time, that out of all this, Ben, and my father, and the Death Star, and Biggs, was that you're the one I still have. You and Han. And Chewie. And that I want to continue to have."

"Oh." Again, something inside Leia seemed to drum. "I'm supposed to talk about the Death Star," she told Luke.

"Well, tell her you're doing it with me." Luke reached up to deactivate the lamp and Leia caught the beginning of a grin before he face was swallowed in the darkness.

His soft voice seemed to come from nowhere. "The thing is, Leia, if you could choose now between me and Alderaan you'd pick Alderaan. Whereas me... I'd pick you. And not because I don't love my aunt and uncle. Because I feel like," Luke paused to grapple with his thoughts, "because yours is so... I don't know. Fateful? Mine is... Life is rough, you know? People die. Not always like the way my aunt and uncle did, but some do. It's... I don't mean to sound glib. It's unfair, and it's awful but it happens. I feel like I'm just one of those people terrible things happen to."

"Luke," Leia protested.

"There was a kid in my class." Words were pouring from Luke. "He- disappeared one day and everyone figured it was the Sand People. But then they found him, his body, in town, and it turned out he'd been snatched, by, well, they never found out who. And he was murdered. And when we all thought Sand People it was bad, but it was... we understood. The Sand People, we share the desert with them. They have their side of the story, their reasons. It doesn't make sense to us, but it does to them. When it turned out to be something else, someone else... well, it shook us, all of us. My uncle didn't let me go out on my own after it until I got my speeder license. I don't think his parents ever recovered. But you, you're more than that.

"Tarkin," Luke said, "he did that to Alderaan. I said he was torturing you, and he was. But he's like that unknown murderer on Tatooine. There's no good _why_, there's no good reason."

Leia was following Luke's words intently. Sometimes she found salvation and sometimes she found blame. "The reason was to end the Rebellion," she said softly.

"No," Luke contradicted her. "Because the Rebellion was not on Alderaan. He just wanted to use the Death Star."

His words hung in the air, so simple but so grave. They floated atop the water, and Leia directed them to sink, settling on the seabed, so she would have them later.

"If you ask me," Luke continued, "Tarkin was the one a bit too trusting. Putting his faith in the Death Star."

He stood. "My hands are sticky from jokla juice. I need to wash before I climb back in the X-Wing." He turned on the headlamp again. "Which way? Kriff, I am totally disoriented."

Leia clambered to her feet and gave Luke a tight hug. Luke talked in a stream of ideas and feelings, because it was easiest for him. A hug came from Leia, as a gift, from a Princess perhaps, but there was safety in action.

"Have you named the X-Wing?" she asked Luke before he could question the motives behind her hug. "I know some do that."

"Yeah," he said, and instead of just telling her, he launched into a lengthy introduction to each of the Rogue pilots. He told her how they petitioned to paint their airships with their mark, how Dodonna denied them, and listed not only his but each name a pilot chose. His own, he told her when he finally reached the end of his story, adding that the rest of the squadron teased him ceaselessly but good-naturedly because his design wasn't a lovely female, was _Homestead._


	35. Forgiveness

Leia stood on the landing platform long after Luke left. She hugged her arms across her front and her face remained tilted upwards, having watched his ascent through atmo. She would give Buteral's dark sky starlight if she could, and it would come from her eyes, those glittering unshed tears, crystallized in the vacuum of space.

Luke had almost taken her headlamp. He had to stop preflight to re-open the cockpit canopy, and tossed it to her with a laugh. She wouldn't hear what he said over the noise of the ship engines, so he pointed to his temple and made a funny face.

_You can have it, _she would tell him if he could hear her. _Take it. _

But it was hers again, the strap curled into her fist.

So much... longing, and she didn't know why. Different than what she had for the Princess who boarded the _Tantive IV. _Different; not new. Like a warmth grown cold.

Luke caused it, somehow. He brought it out in her. He made her aware of an absence, something she should have but she would never learn _what_; only that it would never be. He gave her this loneliness, that a friendship of several hours was her greatest treasure. And they had discussed the refugees, and Leia had wanted to tell him how nervous she was, how anxious, but she couldn't.

Right now Leia missed her mother. And she missed Alderaan's queen, both one and the same.

Her mother rose to the throne at age twenty-four, the same Leia would, if the institution would continue. Twenty-four was the sum of the two groups of maidens; the spiritual ones who created the planet and the corporeal ones who helped maintain civilization. A beloved queen, though her reign was short. To prepare, Princess Breha had held ministry positions. She'd stayed inward, with her planet, while Leia chose to pursue an intergalactic path for her government training.

At age twenty, the same as Leia, her mother would still be a princess. Alderaan had never been tested the way it was now. And the bitter taste was there was no Alderaan. How to test something that didn't exist? Leia was expected to rule; tradition was royalty, after all, but rule over what?

Daughters wanted their mothers, Leia knew. Daughters wanted the wisdom of experience. They wanted to be good women, in all the roles they took on. Lovers, mothers. Leaders.

She took a big breath, and kept her face up to the sky, thinking of her mother's composure. It came from the crown. Wearing it, the weight of centuries of tradition and queens past, must have caused a kind of interface that gave the wearer a special wisdom.

Leia lowered her chin, and kept the length of her neck over the rest of her spine in imitation of her mother, and all the queens that came before. The queen listened and spoke from beyond hooded eyes, and the angle of her head caused her to react slowly, because of the concentration it took to balance the crown. The design was deliberate and symbolic.

Leia had done things her mother never had. She had been arrested and tortured. She wore the uniform of treason. But her mother had died.

Durocrete was a dull gray, and Leia suddenly realized she was seeing in color. Gradually, the ground in front of her took on light, and Leia had a shadow. It was a moment before she realized the cause was another's lamp. The light bounced and expanded, and Leia turned, shielding her eyes. The sense of absence disappeared.

It was General Rieekan, strolling slightly stooped, his hands clasped behind his back. He had moved his lamp over to his left temple so as not to blind Leia, and his expression was apologetic.

He cleared his throat. He did that, Leia suspected, because she forbid him to ask if he could stand in her shadow out loud, but he couldn't _not_ ask, and this was a compromise. Then he said, "Your Highness."

"Thank you for allowing Commander Skywalker to land, General Rieekan," she said.

"Glad to be of service," he replied without a touch of irony.

A generous man, Leia thought. He might have wanted to ask about Luke, but out of deference to his position, he didn't. "I came to find you," he added. "You weren't in your office. I expect you'll meet the passenger ship at arrival tomorrow?"

Leia grabbed at escaped hairs from the sides of her head while she considered what to answer. Her mother would attend. Even as a twenty year old princess. "Yes," she said.

"We're scrambling to finish," Rieekan said. "They're testing the lights in a moment. Rooms will smell like paint, but I told the foreman that's probably better than the smell of low tide."

Leia offered a slight smile which he probably couldn't see.

Rieekan bowed his head and exhaled noisily. "If you will accept my weakness, Your Highness," he said against the wind, "I am... on edge."

"Regarding the refugees?" Leia asked. "Are they safe?"

"Whether they'll feel safe on Buteral, or indicate they're neglected," Rieekan sighed in quiet frustration. "I don't know what to tell them."

Leia held her own head as if the weight of the crown was upon it. "I will do the speaking," she said, though the decision was brand new.

"This... " General Rieekan began and stopped. "We have a role in this," he managed finally. "What happened. They don't."

Leia nodded quietly. It hadn't occurred to her before, and it should have. Carlist Rieekan was Alderaani and a newly ranked general. His station was no coincidence. She wondered with whom he spoke, Klander or Renzatl. Probably Dr. Renzatl, Leia figured. The same as her.

"I can trace my... the history of the planet, and see... where I enter," he was saying. "What I did, to cause this. They can't. They just woke up one day, somewhere-"

"In a temporary place," Leia offered.

"- and learned the planet was gone."

"Yes."

"For some, it might have taken days to learn the news. We had the advantage of Alliance communication."

_I had the Death Star,_ Leia thought, but she didn't say it. She thought of Luke, bored and so far from the hub of the galaxy. Had the news reached Tatooine yet? Surely it had.

"I can't imagine," Rieekan said. "To go on for days as usual, and then to find out while you ate, while you laughed, and slept and worked and walked, your life was-" Rieekan couldn't find the word. "Gone," he settled on lamely.

She recognized Rieekan's heart. The same feelings that festered in his had beat hers as well. But Luke had given her something else during his visit. Not absolution necessarily, though it had the same effect. And not forgiveness. For Luke, there was simply nothing to forgive. _Tarkin just wanted to use it._

"Will they know of you?" Leia asked. "Your involvement? Or mine?"

"The particulars, no. They may only blame the Empire. But things like your mission, no. The Alliance does not reveal the names of operatives, not until twenty years after it has been declassified."

"From the Empire, then. Palpatine's psychological war."

"I don't think so. At least, not immediately. He hasn't named you. He hasn't addressed it publicly at all. He's been centered on building anger and resentment against the Alliance, and Mon Mothma.

"The Death Star was his secret weapon. Our sources tell us he is furious about its loss, internally. There have been demotions and executions. But he's still keeping a lid on what exactly happened to Alderaan."

"Uncertainty," Leia realized. "Causing beings to question the war."

"Perhaps. But not a happy time to be in the Emperor's inner circle."

The statement tickled Leia's imagination. If Tarkin had survived the Death Star, she wondered, he probably wouldn't much longer when the Emperor summoned him to demand why a piece of his Empire was disintegrated while the rebel army had grown stronger.

"Did you know Grand Moff Tarkin?" she asked Rieekan.

"Not personally, no. I'd heard of him. His ambition." Rieekan's voice dripped with distaste.

Leia nodded. "Add him to the path of history you trace, Carlist. He was the one."

The lights turned on. Leia hadn't been aware there were so many, strung high, wires tracing the shape of the shoal dangling high above and swaying in the wind. "Oh!" she gasped, and put a hand to her mouth.

The sea was visible, rolling, still black; all of it and not just what could be seen from the beam of a lamp. It was wild, and glorious but all around were signs of men. Perfectly square platforms; narrow, railed bridges; squat, windowed structures jutting out of the sides of the thin mountains.

"The lights work," Rieekan said happily. He and Leia watched the water.

Once upon a time, a different sea rolled gently on Alderaan. Leia could see it from the high tower of the palace.

She couldn't leave Alderaan yet. "You were counsel to my father about his activities," she told Rieekan.

"I supported your father," Rieekan answered gravely. "I worried for his safety. I suppose I've been on edge ever since Palpatine declared himself Emperor. But your father felt it a better course for Palpatine to purge his enemies rather than bomb a populace as he did Corellia. Your father believed an enemy became more powerful from the grave. He was willing."

"He used to say to me," Leia said, "'no one retires from this'."

She could see Rieekan's fond smile now. "I'd heard him say the same. Were we in denial?" Rieekan asked, but it was a rhetorical question. "We knew of the Death Star, we knew of its capabilities, we knew its purpose, and yet-"

"I know you worked to keep Alderaan safe," Leia consoled. "To use the Death Star... It's insane," she said. She thought back to that moment on the bridge, Vader's fingers digging into her shoulders, both she and him listening to Tarkin's reasoning. "It's still insane."

"Sometimes..." Rieekan said. "Do you sometimes have to tell yourself it's true?"

"I went to the Graveyard," Leia said sadly. "I know it's true." She let the noise of the sea wash over her, and thought of her father, and his last moments.

"My father must have had a message for- for those-" she broke off. Maybe they listened to him as if their souls depended on it. Maybe there was full-blown panic, people trying to escape, and no one heard him.

"He may have," Rieekan agreed."It would be like him." Suddenly, his voice was anguished. "We put you in this position," he couldn't look at her. "Your father would beg forgiveness."

Leia shut her eyes tightly. It was so much more complicated than that. Father and daughter, Viceroy and Princess. Traitors and operatives.

"He would have it," she said.


	36. Forgiveness, II

Han wouldn't make it in before the CTC transport arrived, but that was okay. He was close enough, delayed for landing clearance because of all the mess of the refugee arrival.

Leia called it a mess. It wasn't; she was being unfair. She felt cranky.

There was no more darkness. Too many lights, everywhere. She'd gotten used to telling time by the sound of the sea. She could tell when the water level lowered; watched for the thin line that formed in the horizon separating sky from sea. She only knew what time it was now because everyone was supposed to be at the landing pad at a certain time and she had checked her chrono.

She had an hour still and was walking the far end of the shoal so no one would interrupt her. She stopped every once in a while, testing out a phrase, and after she rejected it walked some more.

Mon had wanted to breakfast with her, but Leia declined with the excuse she wanted to rehearse her speech. Mon had given her a funny look but let her go.

_Because she knows,_ Leia thought. Mon was a fairly close associate of Leia's when she entered the Senate. Close, even though one was in hiding. But Mon still maintained ties with the Organas, and she knew Leia's talent for speaking extemporaneously.

The truth was there was no speech to rehearse. And any attempt at fell flat with a bitter irony that made her wince. She had not a word for the refugees. Not even welcome.

Because it wasn't a welcome. Inviting Alderaani to Buteral wasn't hospitality. It was more of an apology, an attempt at rectifying something that was impossible to recover. She was curious about what Mon would tell them. _The Alliance started a war against the Empire, and you got caught in the middle. _She wasn't glad to see them exactly, not really, because it was a reminder of what had happened. She could tell them she was sorry they were here, which was true, maybe for them as well. Or she could tell them she was glad they were alive, but she couldn't forget the first few days, when everyone who wasn't her father earned her resentment.

It had become an event. It must be so crowded up in atmo, Leia thought, what with Mon Mothma's Alliance craft, various news outlet ships, the CTC. Maybe even the _Falcon. _Personnel had been shuttled down to Buteral and gathered around the perimeter of the the landing pad, which remained empty, reserved for the red passenger craft that held thirty-three Alderaani.

It was Rieekan's base, but he deferred to Mon Mothma to set a tone for the program. They had planned it in his office, and in the middle of conversation he had put a hand to his earpiece and turned his head to the side. Mon Mothma stopped talking.

"Excuse me," the General said. And he looked at Leia like there was a secret between them. "I have to go see about a freighter."

He had heard something of Luke. He must have heard of... probably the ship, Leia figured. When she heard people recount the Battle of Yavin, they named the _Millennium Falcon_, not the one who piloted her. Easier to say 'freighter' than 'self-styled mercenary smuggler of indistinct motivations'.

So she wouldn't have the candles until after. Better to not have them part of this anyway and turn it even more into a spectacle. She would wait, hold a proper ceremony.

She hadn't slept at all. Sleep was often a problem, broken up into a dream where she was brought to the bridge of the Death Star, and her practice was to get out of bed and do something. She walked a little, then read, or wrote; anythinng to push Vader's breathing to the bottom of the pile, and then tried to get back to sleep.

Last night it had been a disciplinary exercise. Leia refused to let herself get up, though the soles of her feet were burning. It wasn't the Death Star that kept her up this night but the Alderaani coming. Leia grit her teeth. _Sleep!_ she ordered herself, and tossed and turned. She didn't sleep but it felt like she dreamed, or it was just her mind telling her things.

Why didn't she know what to do for these people? They were hers! They were the same. Weren't they?

Maybe there was nothing to do. Buteral solved their basic needs. Something to eat and a place to rest to keep them alive.

Were they dead inside? Was Leia?

_No_, she answered herself. She wasn't. She remembered the warmth she felt, talking with Luke, being on the _Falcon _with Han and Chewie. _But I don't need._

She had demonstrated she could go without. In her cell on the Death Star, no maidens, no proper place to relieve herself or rest, and on the bridge, where she watched everything provided to her crumble to nothing.

Trust was need.

Shame hit like a wave. _May the gods damn Tarkin. _

Leia halted midstride, weary and furious. Luke didn't know he had helped but he had, only it wasn't enough. _Tarkin_ _just wanted to use it_. It was how Tarkin used Leia that she couldn't let go.

All Alderaani had lost their planet. Only Leia had been too trusting.

Leia knew she had to interact with the refugees in some way. _Maybe run away, _she joked lamely to herself. But Mon had said she would speak, as well as the head of the CTC, and that Leia should also.

"We are just the background," Mon had told Leia of her own and the CTC's presence. "You, as Princess of Alderaan, are the substance."

Leia walked, not seeing the shoal at all. Instead she saw Alderaan from the bridge of the Death Star, and she saw her mother. She tried; if Alderaan weighed so heavy on her it was because it was her life, and she told herself, _remember the gardens, the shrub you made a fort in? and the maidens couldn't fit inside with you? _but she couldn't _stay_ there. She wasn't plucked, or whisked or arrested when she found herself back on the bridge, Vader pinning her to him. She just appeared. Little Leilei, giggling her way through gaps in branches, dead leaves and twigs snapping under her knees as she crawled, to Princess Leia, about to watch her planet disintegrate, unable to move.

She was born for this moment, wasn't she. Her mother's whole life saw Alderaan mostly crisis-free. There was the Clone Wars of course, but the Queen and planet shared responsibility with the rest of the Old Republic. Alderaan, in the centuries since the Recent Experiment, was stable. All of her. Economy, government, society. Low crime rate, excellent government assistance programs, a thriving trade practice with dozens of other systems.

Her mother was a fortunate Queen. She only allowed her husband to court a war, but Bail Organa was very careful. Palpatine had no proof, only suspicions. What kind of Princess was Leia... she didn't want to think it. Tragic, broken... _Stop!_

Luke was right about Tarkin. And Rieekan was correct too, that her father would beg forgiveness. Where it concerned the refugees, it wasn't about her on the Death Star. It was about them, and a Princess with a crown who only lacked a throne.

So why was it so hard to be their Princess? Dejectedly, Leia sat on the rocky ground. What had happened to her? Something had snapped in her; she wasn't who she used to be. She still felt she could be strong and confident, and was pleased when she saw herself that way, but there was a vagueness about it. A spark, quickly flaring, just as quickly cooling. The fired didn't catch; she went back to functioning. But that wasn't enough for the refugee Alderaani. They needed a Princess.

She hoped. Because if they didn't-

_You're far too trusting. _

Leia put her head in her hands and clawed at the hair over her forehead. She was just so tired.

* * *

Dr. Renzatl was at breakfast. She ate late for some reason. Her hair was pulled back, in a simple style Leia approved of. Military, perhaps, definitely practical. It was unaffected, much like the doctor herself. Leia touched her own hair, still arranged in two buns.

Leia stood at her table. "Good morning," she said.

Dr. Renzatl looked up. "Good morning, Your Highness."

"May I join you?"

"Certainly." Dr. Renzatl moved a data board aside.

Leia nodded. "I'll get some kaf." She returned after a moment, and sat stirring it, though she hadn't added anything to it. "You said," she began, and stopped. "I... You said I could come any time."

Dr. Renzatl's eyes flicked away from Leia's face as she sifted through past conversations. "Oh, yes," she said. "When you made your realization."

"Yes." Leia needed a moment to understand the doctor was a busy woman. "I saw my friend, Luke. He's flying patrol overhead, and General Rieekan let him come dirtside. And... we talked some."

"I'm so glad." Dr. Renzatl smiled. "I would bet he missed you."

"He did." Leia's lips curved in a smile. Even though Luke had only seen the doctor once, she seemed to have a grip on his naive and enthusiastic nature. "He sends his regards. We talked a lot about the Death Star. I feel better that I'm not alone in having it so on my mind." She paused. "It's a bit different for him. Or may be it's not." Luke was floundering too.

"It's safe to say his sense of identity has certainly been challenged."

"Yes," Leia agreed. She stared into her coffee.

Dr. Renzatl put her fork down and waited. "We've talked about it at some length," she prompted gently. "A challenge of the spirit for you?"

"Yes," Leia said. "Spirit, identity." She took in a breath and held it, then blurted, "It's Tarkin. Not really my realization, or breakthrough, but that's the moment I identified."

"Tarkin," Dr. Renzatl repeated thoughtfully. "Do you mind if I make notes?"

"No. Have I told you about him? He was the Grand Moff on the Death Star. In charge of everything." Leia waved a hand. "Vader, everything."

"What was the moment exactly?"

"When Alderaan was fired upon." Leia felt like she was talking too fast, but her own Tide's Rush was upon her. If she said it fast it would come out. "He told me that my presence gave him the idea for the Death Star's first target. He told me I was too trusting."

Leia stopped. Dr. Renzatl might need time for her stylus to catch up with Leia's words.

"Go on," the doctor encouraged. She made no comment on how Leia was trembling: her jaw, her torso, and the more she tried to contain it the more it spread.

"I told Luke about it. He said- he arranged it better for me, in my mind. He said it was the continuation of the torture."

Dr. Renzatl chewed her breakfast thoughtfully. "Quite likely he is correct."

"And he said that Tarkin only wanted to use the Death Star. But that he was wrong: the purpose was to eliminate the Rebellion, not blow up an innocent planet. He made it seem that Tarkin was an over-eager monster with his own agenda."

"Alderaan is completely Tarkin's responsibility," Dr. Renzatl confirmed.

Leia nodded. "I understand that. Sometimes. I do. Rationally. There was no reason." Leia's eyes drifted to a corner of a floor tile. "It's what he said."

Dr. Renzatl brought her kaf closer. Her lips were pursed a little. "Often, in a shock, the mind focuses on one thing. Sometimes the whole event is blurred in a memory, except for that one thing, and it takes on major importance."

"A symbol."

"Yes."

"I remember it all," Leia said.

"But you focus on Tarkin. On what he said."

"Yes."

"Tell me about him." Dr. Renzatl had the stylus aimed at her data board. "What is he to you?"

Leia answered swiftly. "The enemy."

"There's more."

Leia shrugged. "I don't really know much of him. He was a Grand Moff. Rode up to his station on the Emperor's coat tails. Very ambitious and ruthless."

Dr. Renzatl's eye was cynical. "The perfect Imperial, then."

"Yes."

"Give me your impressions of him."

"Well," Leia frowned. An impression was so different from what actually happened. She needed to think. "He was cold. Very gaunt. His face was..." Leia saw it clearly. "... was skeletal. He was mannered." The description made her nauseous. "Well groomed. Manicured fingers." She lifted up her own hands and gazed at them. "A man of privilege."

"He sounds like a man of comfort?"

"Yes."

"And..."

"And it makes me sick. His politeness. A sick game. That he could tell _me-"_

"Why?"

"Because_..._" Leia's hands couldn't be still. She scratched a cheek, fiddled with her hair. Finally, aware of their flightiness, she made them grip her cup.

Dr. Renzatl put her own elbows on the table, and joined her hands. "You told me you are proud of yourself at this moment."

"Of course I couldn't know what was coming. So yes, I remained strong."

"Describe yourself to me as you did him during this."

Leia shook her head. Her memory was stark, more than an impression, but words wouldn't build.

"This is it, Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl encouraged softly.

Leia clasped her hands and squeezed them hard. "I came because I know I'm stuck on it. A hurdle I can't get over."

"And that is excellent. But you're the only one to make the jump." Dr. Renzatl touched Leia's sleeve quickly. "You have always been so brave, Your Highness. It's such an admirable quality. Sometimes I think you're the only one to win this war."

Leia looked up, surprised by the personal revelation. But it helped to fortify her. "I am proud. Of my strength. I was the Princess," Leia listed. Her eyes went distant; details like the plate and data board on the table disappeared. "I was biting but... composed. Cold, too, I suppose. Regal. I was the Princess," she repeated. "I wasn't... too unlike him." She felt like throwing up. "He was the Grand Moff and I was the Princess. He used others to get where he was. I... was picked. Adopted. Raised to be Queen."

"Are you still proud of yourself?"

Unaware her head was moving slowly side to side, Leia was staring intensely at nothing. "I became the enemy," she said softly. "Because he brought me in to it. He chose Alderaan."

"And gave the credit to you."

Leia's hand went to her mouth. It was shaking. "I killed Alderaan."

"He wanted you to think you killed Alderaan."

"But I did, I was there, and he set course only because I was there, he said-"

"Do not confuse which is the villain here, Your Highness." Dr. Renzatl's voice was sharp. "You did not set course. You did not give the order to fire."

"Yes, but-"

"Trust is not a weakness. Of course you had to do something. You were trying to protect your planet. Trust is a generosity of character. I would bet you didn't trust him."

Leia's brows knit. "I'm not... I don't remember thinking... anything. I saw Alderaan when I was brought in, out the viewport."

"He made his decision long ago," Dr. Renzatl said. "I'm sure if it had been your friend Luke there in your place Tatooine would be the planet destroyed. Or Corellia, if it were Captain Solo."

Leia breathed, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Dr. Renzatl asked.

Leia nodded. "You're saying..." but she couldn't acknowledge it.

Dr. Renzatl nudged some more. "Please realize it for me. I need to hear it from you."

"Luke said it was torture." Leia lifted her eyes from her kaf. "Which is-"

Dr. Renzatl sighed. "Clearly torture. It's in the Alliance manual, Your Highness. Torture is to inflict and cause intense pain, by one on another, for the purpose of gaining information or compelling a being to do something. It is both physical and psychological, and can have long term effects. I encourage you to read that section."

"When I got to the bridge Alderaan was there. And Tarkin said name the Rebel location or I'll destroy Alderaan. I named Dantooine. He told Vader I had been persuaded," Leia's mouth was bitter. "Then he gave the order to fire. But it wasn't torture like the rest. There was no... I wasn't injured."

"A broken heart is a terrible pain," Dr. Renzatl said softly.

"It wouldn't have, if I... if I-" Leia swallowed. "If there was something different I could have done."

"When Luke says you were tortured, does he indicate he thinks you are to blame for Alderaan?"

"No, he doesn't," and Leia felt a rush of gratification toward him. "To him, it's not my fault at all."

"Yes," Dr. Renzatl said emphatically. "Now envision that strong Princess held back by Lord Vader, and tell her that."

Leia nodded curtly. The scene was clear. She was very small against Darth Vader's front, and Alderaan dominated the background out the viewport. Tarkin strode to an intercom and Leia looked out the viewport. "I'm sorry," she told Alderaan.

She rubbed her forehead. "By the goddesses," she breathed. "I see, I do, rationally. When you explain it, when Luke said those few words, I understand. I'm still not-" she smiled slightly. "The Princess Leia up there isn't completely convinced."

Dr. Renzatl looked tenderly at Leia. "You need to keep talking to that Princess, then. Because what you say is the truth. You need to convince her of that."

Leia was barely listening. She nodded. "That's why," she said softly.

"What is why?"

"The refugees." Leia's eyes went to Dr. Renzatl's. "That's why I came, really. I haven't been able to... to deal with them. The knowledge of who they are. I've tried. General Rieekan said there's no way they can know I was on the Death Star. Luke said Tarkin just wanted to use it. But it hasn't... it hasn't released me. From being the one."

"You think that because they are from Alderaan they'll know somehow? They'll blame you?"

Leia nodded. "They'll see it inside me. In my heart."

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "That isn't a rational statement."

"I know." Leia glanced into her kaf, remembering how she had challenged Luke with General Kenobi sitting on his lap in the X-wing. He had smiled at her. She couldn't yet; she was shaking at the release of her most buried self-suspicions, like birds taking flight, scattered into the sky.

"Rationally, what will they see?" Dr. Renzatl's head was cocked to the side.

Leia's shrugged one shoulder. "Their Princess. Respresentative of Alderaan."

"And a part of their culture, their tradition?"

"Yes. Even, if you think of the mythology, the planet itself. The goddesses created both."

"If it were me," Dr. Renzatl offered, "seeing you would probably bring me to tears. What a powerful image that evokes."

Leia listened to the doctor's outsider view of her people. It calmed her. "Alderaan was a special place."

"Is it a vengeful place? Would the goddesses call for blood?"

"No." Leia shook her head ruefully. "A gentle place. Peaceful."

"Do you realize, Your Highness, a month ago I don't think you would have been able to tell me what is in your heart. I appreciate that you did just now. But what is it about the refugees?"

"I'm... I don't know. I've dreamed of them. Instead of watching Alderaan I see them land."

Dr. Renzatl's brows lifted. "They become the horror?"

"I'm... scared of them?" Leia asked. She tried to hide behind the kaf but it had grown cold. She set the cup down.

"Scared of having failed them, or scared of them as your people?"

Leia sucked in a cheek and nodded at the doctor. "I see the difference."

"Good." Dr. Renzatl checked her chrono. "Did your friend Luke have anything to say about the refugees?"

Leia's eyes glittered. "Just in general, but I thought he was pretty smart. He said that some wouldn't like it here. Which also helped, because I've been afraid of their anger. He got me to see they aren't a mob, but individuals."

"You know, if I could write a prescription, I would have you be with your friend Luke regularly." Dr. Renzatl stood. "We probably should leave. We're due on the landing platform in thirty minutes."

Leia smiled. "I wouldn't mind your prescription. Captain Solo is coming, too. Not for me or the refugees," she hastened to correct before the doctor would misinterpret. "He's making a delivery. I hope to see him too."

"Oh, now, that should be interesting," Dr. Renzatl said with a laugh and got up to clean her tray. "You don't need my wishes for good luck, Your Highness. Only have a wonderful reunion with your people."

"Thank you, Doctor."


	37. Acceptance

The transport was red, with the black field and painted stars in the shape of the galaxy that identified a CTC craft. The steam swirling from the landing thrusters was hypnotic, and Leia watched it as one entranced.

At least she looked composed, though her fingers folded tucked into her hands covered sweaty palms. And she looked ready, or determined. Which she was.

After leaving Dr. Renzatl's breakfast table- she had forgotten to throw away her kaf cup- she had gone to her quarters and changed. Found her Death Star gown carefully folded inside a drawer. It needed pressing, so she called in a livery droid. It needed freshening, too, she noticed as she slipped it over her head, but the Alliance didn't provide scents. In the 'fresher she applied dabs of soap to random places in the pleats, and wet them slightly to bring out the aroma of soap. It would have to do.

She changed her hair, too. The Death Star gown was a cheat sheet. Things she needed to remember._ I am not the villain_. But her hairstyle held no meaning, really. It was the hairstyle she received the morning of her departure on the Tantive IV as her maidens had dressed her.

"How do you want your hair today?" the Maiden of the Bath asked.

Leia hadn't cared. She was busy going over the itinerary of her deceptive diplomacy mission, and barely listened.

"How about the side roll?" the Maiden suggested, and started pulling on Leia's hair, dividing it in two sections.

Though one's hair, particularly a woman's, was significant on Alderaan. In fact, before the Recent Experiment was enacted, women had braided secret messages into their hair with the use of ribbon, twists, and a coded number of plaits.

The Goddess of Loss was represented in statuary and paintings in a singular image: a lovely woman, either eternally beautiful or in the bloom of youth, but her long hair was loose, unkempt. It looked anguished.

Leia removed all the hair pins and brushed out all the crimps caused by her long- term wearing of the side rolls. Then she took carefully separated strands and tied them twice in overhand knots up at her crown. That was all she did. She looked at her image in the 'fresher reflector and hoped it would suffice.

_Taking this out will be torture._ Her eyes widened, surprised at her own poor joke, but then they gleamed. _You're no worse than a hairstyle, Vader._

Down on the landing pad she stood beside Mon Mothma and practiced breathing regularly. She noted the members of the press, their section to stand roped off, and the CTC crowd gathered in its own area. Majors Klander and Renzatl observed the proceedings near them. Major Klander caught Leia's eye and gave her a subtle thumbs up. It was a big day for him, too. He'd worked very hard, with Leia's input, on being able to provide healing through environment.

Luke was in the _Homestead_ on patrol. Han might be waiting in orbit too. He could have come, she thought a little wistfully. Taken a shuttle that dropped the press down. Instead he probably gathered with the other pilots. Maybe a raucous sabacc game was taking place, she imagined, and then told herself to concentrate on what was going on in front of her.

There was to be an order to the proceedings once the ramp let down. The CTC, the Alliance, and Alderaan, in that order. Mon had a carefully arranged program put in place. She wanted to explain, to rally, and to console.

Leia much preferred Luke at her side. Or Chewie behind her, so she could lean back and sink herself into his soft fur and remain standing, if she needed.

But she shouldn't need, she reminded herself, and rubbed the Death Star gown to reinforce the thought. It was still true, even when feeling a little raw, wrung out, after talking with Dr. Renzatl.

If Chewie were behind her that meant Han would be here too. Luke was filial; Chewie embracing. Mon challenging, and that's why Leia didn't want her. What would Han be? Would he advise her to be a Princess?

Conspiratorial, she settled on. Yes, he would conspire. _No wall to shoot, Princess. How you gonna get out of this one?_And he would wait, slight admiration in his eyes because she _had_ shot the wall; she had gotten them out of the detention corridor. And then he would spring into action.

She nodded to herself, wiped her palms on her Death Star gown again. She was the Princess of Alderaan. General Rieekan was in uniform, but his function was different, so he did not stand behind her, as he would in the service of her father, but rather a good distance ahead, ready to greet those disembarking.

Leia recited what she had learned the past few hours: Tarkin wanted to use the Death Star. Her father would beg forgiveness.

A CTC craft held sixty passengers but this one wasn't full. It was an evacuation of a school group from Bavasuuti. An odd, deteriorating situation as a Bavasuutian docent leading the group around was beaten by one of his own. The wielder of the pike stick shouted repeatedly, "No sympathy!"

Another thing Leia learned: there were places where Alderaani, without Alderaan, were not welcome. Lack of charity was tolerable; that was Buteral's purpose. But no welcome? It made her shiver.

_My father would beg forgiveness,_ she chanted.

So there was no Han, no winking fellow to push her forward; no Chewie to show how much he cared; no Luke to offer solidarity. Rieekan might need a handkerchief for his own hands and Mothma was like a statue a mortal carved of the goddess of contest: an immobile judge, but frozen, so had she won or lost?

Names, and candles. That was all Leia had for this small group of students: the dead. She was nervous- Rieekan, too- because she could offer sorrow, but they had that already.

_We have a role in this_, Carlist had said. So they could both offer responsibility, which to Leia, showed weakness. She wondered if Carlist felt the same.

_Tarkin wanted to use the Death Star_, Leia repeated to herself. _Tarkin wanted to use the Death Star._

Leia had been to Bavasuuti once with a student group. She guessed that these students were sixteen years old, the same as she had been. It was a popular exchange program on Alderaan. Bavasuuti was near, and the university system there started at age fourteen, so the Alderaani were getting some college credits before entry to an Alderaani institution, which required them to be aged seventeen or older. And it had them living among the Bavasuutain, fur-covered humanoids with stumpy tails and yellow eyes.

It was a shame- worse, of course- that they had been singled out, but easy to see how. They were so obviously and thoroughly Alderaani it took Leia's breath away. The hair, the embroidery at the edges of their school uniform tunics, the wide brown eyes... it was almost defiant.

General Rieekan was bowing to the girls and shaking the young men's hands. "Welcome," he said so many times in a voice thick with emotion that it lost all meaning. There were some adults on board too, the chaperones and lead teachers.

Leia watched Carlist struggle, and she remembered he had two sons. She brought a hand up across to her shoulder and grabbed the muscle and held on tightly. How strange, that two opposite things, first the witnessing of her planet blow apart and then watching her people assemble on Buteral, should spark the same reaction.

_I am not the villain._

Mon Mothma's schedule of event seemed quiet and somber and appropriate in Rieekan's office, but it wasn't private at all. Holojournalists recorded and narrated into their equipment, members of the CTC and Ministry staff crowded the landing pad, and over the noise of shouted questions General Rieekan was demonstrating the grace of what it meant to be Alderaani. Leia's hand dropped from her shoulder and she told Mon Mothma as she decided to join General Rieekan, "You brought them here. Him too. Let's help him."

Leia felt bare without her maidens, and she wondered if anyone knew who she was now that she was all alone. It was easy to identify the Princess by the crowd of twelve women following in her shadow.

Though Leia was famous on Alderaan. She would be the next queen, so her life was well documented, both publicly and privately. It was that constant anomaly that plagued her. Famous when the place existed; unrecognizable without it. She bowed her head at each, gentle but unsmiling, and the only time she touched them was to pull a fist down from moving over a young man's heart, or to lift a young lady from under her elbow to stop her from curtsying.

There wasn't much age difference, Leia's twenty to the students' teen years, but she felt much older. She always had; a Princess's life had more hours in the day it seemed. When others went home from school she still had a few more hours of study, so by the time she was sixteen she was pursuing a second course of study at university.

Mon Mothma murmured beside her, "I'm glad to meet you," or "I'm so sorry for your loss."

One of the adult men, either teacher or chaperone muttered to Leia, his eyes glistening, "You were spared. Thank the goddesses you were spared."

Leia was taken aback. He was... he wanted her spared?

"No," she answered quietly. "I am the same as you."

They were all off the ship now, friends standing together and a few off by themselves. The adults in the group were spread out, mixed among the students. Thirty-three, Leia counted. A good-sized group to travel to Bavasuuti. And there was a baby. Not a baby, Leia corrected herself, suddenly incoherent and unable to come up with the word to describe an old baby.

Babies were generally held by their parents and that was the case with this little girl, but somehow she wasn't a baby. Leia locked eyes with her, oddly afraid, for those brown eyes didn't understand. The child's mother looked weary; she had probably told her daughter, _Father is dead, Gran is dead, our house, our pets,_ listed on and on, all the lives gone from their world, and the child never cried because she just couldn't comprehend.

She wouldn't remember, Leia knew. Being on the the soil of Alderaan steeped a person into thousands of years of civilization and tradition, and this child was suddenly cut off from it. She wouldn't remember what her father looked like. A double tragedy for the mother, who would spend the rest of her life grieving for what was lost and spend her future raising a daughter who had no idea.

The transport lifted off- it would refuel or rest in orbit before heading off to fill the shuttle again. There would be a constant stream from now on. There was only the sea, rhythmic in the ebb and flow of sound. A droid rolled up a podium and Mon Mothma and the CTC head, a Twi'lek female, stopped talking together and waited behind it. The crowd drew in closer and quieted.

"Good morning. My name is Oolanda Masawawi and I am executive officer of the Core Treaty Consortium," she began. "Eighty years ago," the Twi'lek spoke in the sing-song of her species, "the CTC was formed to assist systems stricken by misfortune. Though much of our work is in response to natural disaster, it is out of recognition that beings, for some reason, cannot stop waging war, resulting often in the destruction of a surroundings. Our philosophy developed that war is a form of disaster. Disasters cannot be prevented.

"The Core Worlds, the whole galaxy in fact, mourns what has happened to you, what has happened to Alderaan.

"It is always very difficult to arrive at a place with our medical teams and excavation equipment, and see the despair and sadness in the eyes of survivors. I never thought to see a scope of disaster where our equipment is not needed, our food, our doctors. I am... heartened that we are able to bring you here.

"You are the first to arrive at Buteral but you won't be the last. In partnership with the Alliance for the New Republic," the Twi'lek glanced at Mon Mothma, "Buteral has been established as a crisis base for those whose homeworlds can no longer provide social structure and security. It is our hope to not only provide sustenance and tools, but to offer care and love. Humanity can be very dark at times, but within the darkness there is always a spark of light.

"I know you don't want to stand here and listen to me," quiet, polite smiles showed in the crowd, and the Twi-lek also smiled, "I'm sure you feel your lives are on hold and you are anxious to return to them. May the Force speed your recovery. As we say on my world, _a'aat'ka ne po'oota. _'Spirit lives where dust gathers.'"

Masawawi stepped back and she and Mon Mothma clutched elbows, and their faces showed compassion and respect for each other. A perfect holo shot, Leia thought, and hoped Palpatine would see it.

"Citizens of Alderaan," Mon Mothma began in her slow and quiet voice, and paused while her eyes lit on thirty-three faces. "The Empire destroyed your homeworld. I want to make that clear in case the details were presented to you differently. That is why you are here. Whatever you may have heard, or hoped: that the news is false, that it was a result of a battle between the Alliance and the Empire, that there has to be something of Alderaan left. Whatever you have heard, I came to deliver the honest truth.

"The Empire destroyed your homeworld. They built a battle station they called the Death Star, and Alderaan was only a test."

Leia lowered her chin a bit, struck by the thought. A test... it hadn't occurred to her really, though Tarkin may have said something similar, but it was true. He was reckless to the point of incompetence, Leia realized slowly. She saw him in a new light. If by chance events went otherwise and she and the Rebels were destroyed on Yavin, the Emperor would no doubt have Tarkin's head because of his actions. An idea latched to her. Even with no time for consideration it had great appeal.

The Minister was letting her words soak in. "A test," she repeated. "I don't need to tell you what was lost. I am sorry for the sequence of events that has led you here. The galaxy feels your loss as keenly. As Minister, my sorrow is not enough. Helping you find your way out of this situation is not enough.

"For years, the Empire has enacted laws and policy which have changed the way we, citizens and world systems, are supposed to view each other, interact with one another. Our quality of life has suffered as a result and now our physical lives are threatened. All of us." Mon Mothma stared out at the crowd. "I don't wish to politicize your presence here. Emperor Palpatine has done that. The Alliance for the New Republic is not fighting a war of political differences. We are fighting for the future. We are fighting to ensure there_ is_ a future.

"May the Force be with you. May It be with us all."

Scattered applause sounded. Leia looked about and saw that Mon Mothma's two aides in attendance were applauding, as were Majors Klander and Renzatl. Leia brought her palms together but her clapping was soundless.

Mon was waiting for her to take her spot behind the podium, but Leia's feet didn't move. The group of students and their chaperones and teachers merely stood. Perhaps they guarded their feelings tightly in such a public scene, for they looked only skeptical or dull. The sea was too high, looming and black, and the receding waves hissed.

Leia spoke to General Rieekan. "I'd like to assemble in the courtyard."

Mon Mothma's carefully arranged event was changed, and she jerked her head about, as if wondering where to move the podium. "As Alderaani," Leia added for Mon's benefit. "Privately. Only us."

General Rieekan nodded to Leia and stood in front of the podium to address the group. "We'll give you a moment to stretch your legs. We'll be walking to up there," he pointed, and heads swung about to view the residential platform. "After an orientation, you'll be shown your quarters and then where to eat. If you'll follow me, please."

It must seem so odd, Leia thought as she took off swiftly to reach the courtyard first and avoid a private word with Mon Mothma. The students probably received a similar talk when they arrived on Bavasuuti, only without mention of war.

She sat on the stone bench at the rear of the courtyard and touched her hair, making sure the knots were strong. Her scalp felt taut.

She waited patiently. It took them a long time. Maybe the General stopped them to point out features, maybe the adults got to talking with Mon Mothma, demanding more information. Maybe the baby toddled along- toddler, that was the word- and could fit between the railings-

Leia jumped up and paced a bit, chiding her racing heart. Why would she think such a thing? That a baby, after losing so much, should find its end here? And Leia didn't trust the mother to watch for the safety of her own daughter?

Leia took a big breath. _They__ are not the villain_.

She smoothed her hair and looked out over the durocrete wall at the sea. The lights reflected on its surface. From up here, high on the thin mountain, the sea appeared gentler. It moved rather than crashed.

The group started to drift in and Leia turned around. The students were drawn to her, and immediately took a seat on the floor, just looking at her. Leia saw they were of mixed age; some looked younger than sixteen. A girl said, "Are you the Princess?" but Leia only moved her eyes from her and after that no one said anything.

The toddler came in, walking unsteadily and holding on to the two hands of a boy who must be her older brother, and then the mother scooped her up and kissed her cheek.

Was compassion need? Is that what Leia had done to herself?

She'd never faltered at being a Princess before. She had trained for so long and so hard.

Her mother had once advised her, when Leia was tired and very young, "you have to breathe royalty, Leilei." And she blew her warm breath on Leia's chubby cheek. "You see?" she said. "Try it."

Little Leilei filled her belly with air. She blew out, cheeks puffed, and her mother laughed.

"Slower; softer," her mother said. "Try again." Together, they inhaled as much as they could, and Leia watched her mother, copying the pace of the exhale.

"Did that help?" Queen Breha asked her daughter.

Little Princess Leia nodded, but told her mother the Queen, "Mati, you need a mint."

Now Leia surveyed the crowd. The adults stood at the rear. The mother and baby sat on a bench across the courtyard from Leia's. The baby squirmed and wanted down. She wanted to explore.

Han wouldn't appreciate what Leia did just now. She broke the royalty wall- shot it, she amused herself with the thought- the one that kept her distant and impersonal.

"What do you want to ask me?" Leia said.

The same girl piped up immediately. "Are you Princess Leia?"

"Yes."

"Is it true?" another one asked after a moment.

Leia could have asked her to clarify, but felt she didn't need to. "Yes," she said. "It is true. Alderaan was completely destroyed by the Death Star. There is nothing to go home to. It is now called the Graveyard. Alderaan has become a meteorite shower."

Her blunt words caused some gulping sobs. Leia bit a cheek. It took strength of character to remember. _Tarkin_, she reminded herself.

"Are we the only ones?"

"We aren't," Leia answered. "There are a good number of natives on many systems. Others will be joining us. It has been a month. A long time." She took a big breath and did not exactly lie. "I have been waiting for you."

A man was crying. A boy asked, "Where were you?"

"Weavers," a man used the term only one Alderaani referred to another, and held his hand up in commanding authority. "You're in the audience of the House of Organa. You will address Her Highness properly."

"Please," Leia held her hand up. "That's not as important as your voices." She nodded at the boy. She had asked General Rieekan the same. "Serving in the Senate," she told him. "I was on a diplomatic tour. I... was on a ship when it happened."

"Was... was the Viceroy with you?" He forgot to use her title but no one reprimanded him this time.

"No," Leia had to clear her throat. "No, I am afraid he was... he was home."

"Oh," the boy said, his lips continuing to form a circle long after the word was gone. Several people bowed their heads.

"Your Highness," another man had his hand up. "Forgive me, I know the children have a lot of questions but adults have different concerns. What are we going to do? I want to be able to provide for myself materially. Being alone is hard enough, but I find the prospect of being not just without Home, but my house, my bank, my job, terribly disconcerting. It's not that I don't appreciate the efforts by the CTC but that's only looking ahead for the immediate future. Where am I going to go when your funding runs out? Where am I going to live?"

Leia swallowed. She had dreaded the arrival of her people, but now she saw that's just what they were, people. They were numb and scared and angry, but they were worried for themselves. "These are valid concerns. Without question we all need a place to live. I commend your determination to not wish to rely upon the charity of the CTC and the Alliance. We," she took a breath, "have to face relocation."

"Will we be separated?" someone interrupted.

"We already are," Leia answered honestly, and it was a sad statement. "However, on worlds where Alderaani families and communities live, it is our hope they open their homes, especially to children. At a later time I would certainly like to visit the idea of living on the same soil together again. To answer your question, good sir, about re-establishing your independence, financial and otherwise, it is my hope to achieve remuneration for you. I have begun the claims process with the IDIT for account holders with the Bank of Alderaan."

The man quieted, his question temporarily answered.

"I also," Leia spoke slowly, knowing it was too soon to release her idea. She should have discussed the feasibility of it with Mon first, but holding Palpatine responsible was a calculation only an Alderaani could appreciate, "based on information I recently received, plan on bringing a civil wrongful death suit against Emperor Palpatine for the destruction of Alderaan."

"How- what do you mean, Your Highness?"

Leia thought a moment. "It alludes to what Mon Mothma indicated. That the firing upon Alderaan was a test." Her eyes sought Carlist's. "General Rieekan-"

He was nodding into his databoard as he wrote, grinning. "We have law staff. It'll anger him. But it's exactly what he did when he was Senator. He snowballed every motion with some countermeasure. Just desserts." He looked up at Leia. "Or maybe you'll win his admiration."

Leia shrugged, unconcerned. "He's had my contempt."

"What else are we going to do, Your Highness?" a girl asked. She looked miserable and seemed anxious. Several threads of her gold embroidery at the wrist were plucked out and frayed. Even now, she worked them, twisting and tugging. "I mean, can we try and contact? I know you said it's gone, but is there a way?" Her eyes filled with tears. "I've been calling my mom's comm and there's... They would go in the speeder," she sniffed. "That was our family emergency plan. They could be flying around-"

"There's no more atmosphere either," her teacher said resignedly. Leia had the feeling he'd had to quash her hopes, or denial, a few times. "A speeder's no help."

Leia couldn't take the pressure. It hurt physically in her chest. "I know this is hard," she spoke to the miserable girl. Others kept a distance from her. She had no friends, Leia saw. She got the impression even her teacher didn't like her.

Leia got up and carefully sat next to the girl, mindful of her dress and hair. She put her arm around the young girl. "So much is gone you can't believe it to be true. You can't think of anything else."

She swung her head to either side, taking in the other's reactions. They were watching her intently and she saw some heads nod. "You want to be glad to be here but it means you must be glad others are dead. You're alive but you can't find joy."

She nodded some more, finding truth finally in all of their faces. She gave her following words slow emphasis. "We are all we have. That's it."

A familiar feeling returned. She was breathing royalty again.

"This is what we will do," she told them. "We shall observe the Month of Flame. That is how we will start. And we will remember with loud voices. Relay to Emperor Palpatine your outrage and distress. Tell others what you have told him. Accuse him. Help crumble his Empire just a little bit."

The group seemed to want to hear more. No one asked a question and no hands went up. Only the baby wriggled, held in place by her mother.

Leia continued, "We will build a memorial. Together. Would you like to see that?" she asked the children. "Alderaan is more than the revised star charts and chapters in history manuals it will soon become. We must remind the galaxy of the _life_ our world contained. I should like the memorial to include the name of every Alderaani not here with us. In the rec center, Major Klander has placed a stack of data pads. Take one, and list the names of those you knew. Everyone. Not just family and friends, but teachers, neighbors, colleagues. The speeder driver who brought you to school."

"Mr. Manndist," someone murmured.

"Mr. Manndist," Leia repeated.

"Can we fight?" a boy asked. He was already shaving, and his voice was passed the intermission between boy and man. "Your Highness."

Leia got up from the floor and returned to the bench to face the group. She pressed her lips together. "No," she said. "The biggest reason is you're not of age."

"Some of us are."

"Then the decision to join the Alliance is theirs," Leia said smoothly. "Blaster bolts and trooper squads aren't the only way to win a war. The Emperor is obsessed with solidification of his power, and though he maintains his position he has lost. His empire is broken apart."

"If he wins-"

"He has lost his Empire even if he wins. He'll own... a collection. A collection of worlds whose citizens detest him, and a cycle of war will continue until one is successful and the Empire is truly dissolved." Leia thought about her words, her head cocked to the side.

"Alderaan was a world of peace," she continued. "We had no weapons we could use against another. I am certain, that had it been another world destroyed, the Viceroy would have seceded from the Empire and joined the Alliance for the New Republic. The question is, how would we have helped the cause?"

"Princess Leia," the first girl spoke up. "We would have given credits."

"Yes, I think we would have," Leia agreed. "But now, we don't have that either. So what kind of weapon can we forge?"

"We can do behind the scenes stuff," a girl suggested shyly. "Support the armies? Like help feed them?"

Leia smiled. "That is certainly an important role to fill."

"We're Alderaani," the teacher said. "We're special. We don't want to be but we are."

"Yes," Leia agreed. "And that is a role no one else can fill. There is our weapon."


	38. Anger

Growing up, Leia never wanted to not be the Princess. It was who she was, same as describing she was female. But sometimes she wanted to be alone.

_Not like this, _she told that god of irony and truth, moving around the courtyard, making sure to look into the eyes of each student and adult, dissolved of one weight but taking on another. _This was not my wish._

Always there were twelve maidens following in her shadow, knowing her better than perhaps she knew herself.

"You belong to everyone," her mother the queen had once told her.

And sometimes she wanted there to be another; someone like her, who existed on a special plane.

"Are you going to get another Princess?" she used to ask her parents when she was very young, sometimes hopefully, sometimes jealously.

Leia knew the circumstances of her birth- actually, she was beginning to sense she had not been told the whole story- but _adopted_ was much like saying _short _or _brown-eyed. _

"You can get another," she would tell them, "even a Prince. I could get used to a boy."

Comments like that made her father smile. "You would like a brother, would you?"

He would have liked another child, Leia suspected now, but her mother had grown sickly and frail, and thoughts of growing the family ceased.

So Leia grew up with a mother and father who belonged to everyone, and sometimes she felt lonely and sometimes she wanted everyone to go away.

_That was not my wish. _

That loneliness had been... crowded. Now it was echoing.

When a weight was lifted it was the maidens who shared it. One was thirteen, Leia thought now. She came on only a year ago, when another left to marry.

Twelve maidens for the twelve goddesses.

She loved her people, she saw now as her fear dissipated, but she thought it might kill her.

General Rieekan had slipped out. She looked around for him, for someone to make the excuse-

She was a new Princess. Without maidens, without goddesses. A leader, one who would bring them all out of this nightmare. And then what? She might...

She might stop. Leia couldn't picture anything, imagine anything. In her mind's eyes, she just stood there. Was anything even happening around her? Was she in the Graveyard? Was it a portrait?

Unidentified, she thought. One couldn't know the future. Just like her father couldn't know what would- if he-

Just go on, Leia told herself. One can't stop. Because life goes on anyway.

The baby had chubby hands, and she leaned forward from her mother's arms as if to leap into Leia's.

Leia stepped back, and remembered to smile. "So playful," she murmured at the mother.

"Yes." The mother kissed her daughter's cheek as she curtsied to Leia. "She's a blessing. I'm so glad I have her."

Leia's smile fought to remain, suddenly bland and uncertain. She glanced around. "And you have a son?"

The mother nodded in the direction of where her son sat with two other boys on the floor. They were doing something, leaning back on their palms and hitting their heels on the floor, talking. Being boys, but a sadness hovered in the air.

"Bail," the mother said. "He was born a few weeks after the Queen died. It was so sad, Your Highness, I want you to know how she affected us all. I told my husband, I said, 'we have got to honor her'. I was pregnant you know, crying all the time."

Leia's brows rose in polite question. The mother chatted easily and openly, much like a spy had relayed a secret message to her once. Leia really didn't know much about pregnancy, and certainly not that it made a new mother cry. But she listened intently, just like she had listened to the spy, for she didn't know which part of the message had any meaning for General Dodonna, only that it was contained in there somewhere and she had to know every word.

"He turned out to be a boy," the woman told Leia unnecessarily, her eyes directed at her son, "and your father had been named Viceroy."

"My father loved my mother very much," Leia said, struggling to participate. She'd had instructions how to answer the spy in conversational lapses. Though if her father were alive she never would have uttered such a statement. It seemed like since the roles of Viceroy and Queen had been obliterated, it was best her parents be remembered as people.

"This has been... tough on my Bail, on us," the mother was saying, jiggling the baby up and down. "He hurts so bad."

"You must, too," Leia said.

"I do." The mother nodded frankly. "I do. Thank the goddesses we have each other. It's more than others -" she pressed her lips together. Leia could see the woman forcing the change of subject, pushing it past her lips. "But you know, this little one keeps me so busy. Look at her, Your Highness. Doesn't she seem like she wants to know all she can?"

The little girl was chewing on her fist. The fingers were wet with saliva and every once in a while she leaned forward, trying to get to Leia. But her eyes shone with keen curiosity and she seemed to be taking everything in with a solemn observation.

"She's so... oh, pure," the mother said. "Bright, and eager. Everything is brand new. If it scares her, I'm there to help her through."

"Who is she named after?" Leia asked.

"My mother. Maline."

The baby heard her name and her fist popped out of her mouth. She looked at her mother.

The mother smiled, tears in her eyes. "She's the future, Your Highness. Not the one I wanted for her or imagined, but that was my idea, wasn't it. She's wide open. She can handle anything. I think of her as the goddesses reborn."

Leia blinked, and her breathing shallowed. She felt exactly as she had after the mind probe had left, successful and sick. She felt like Maline was the mind probe, a chubby baby girl who had recently learned to walk and liked to stick her fist in her mouth. The mother didn't notice, cooing at her daughter, while several feet away her son was stomping his heel on the floor, talking with a couple of other boys.

And there was Major Klander, lurking politely outside the courtyard. Leia drifted from the mother. That boy Bail had at one time been brand new too, she thought, at a time when the planet mourned their Queen. A queen's loss happened once in a lifetime, sometimes not even that.

And at one time, twenty years ago, Leia was named by an unknown dying mother. Was it cruel that she emerged from the womb able to carry on- willing, eager to carry on- despite the loss of the woman who had nurtured her?

Major Klander said something Leia barely heard, her heart was so loud in her head. "...talk to them as a group, tell them about the resources we've set up, Your Highness?"

"Of course," she breathed professionally. The stone bench from where she had addressed the group was on the sea end, across the floor, and Leia wanted to be able to slip out as General Rieekan had. The exit was on the mountain side.

Leia took a breath, like a royal, she thought in a loving nod to her mother. She projected her voice, and its deep clear tone quieted the room.

"Weavers," she gathered in everyone with her eyes. "I'd like to introduce Major Jaf Klander. As you heard on the landing pad, Buteral is a crisis base. The Alliance for the New Republic will occupy it along with you, to ensure your physical safety while the war wages.

"There's more than just physical safety, however," Leia said, and next to her Major Klander nodded. "What happened to us, to our home... it's on a scale that has never been seen before. We are faced not just with recovering our well-being from the perspective of the individual, but from that as a people. Alderaan has," Leia paused, hearing the present tense, and she decided to not correct it, "has a tradition of grace and composure, of empathy and concern."

She wanted to say more, but anything that came to her lips sounded emptier than encouragement. She finished with, "That is who we are."

"Thank you, Princess Leia," Major Klander said. "As Her Highness said, I'm with the Alliance, Recovery and Assistance." He left out the T of his department, Leia noted, Trauma.

Major Klander rubbed his thinning red hair. "A terrible thing has happened. A terrible thing for the galaxy at wide; a terrible thing that means more to you than the rest can understand. You're going to ask why. For the rest of your lives, maybe."

He had a casual manner, almost folksy. Leia knew his specialty was winged beings, but since he was human he would have no trouble making the shift to helping the Alderaani.

"Why now," he was saying, pacing a few steps before turning back and pacing the other direction. "Why you. Why Alderaan. You're going to ask why- how- are humans capable of doing such evil to each other. You may come to a process in your thinking where you ask, how did the goddesses allow this to happen to something they created? And you'll wonder, pleadingly, if they can't rebuild it."

He was doing a good job, Leia thought. He had spent many hours with her, asking about the culture of Alderaan, and he was hitting to the heart of their origins.

"Some of these questions we may not be able to answer," he told them. "Some of these questions we've been asking since time began. Maybe the Force knows. Maybe we'll find out in the after life. Maybe our loved ones already have that answer." He looked around at the group, his face sad. "We'll have to console ourselves with that."

Leia sought the baby Maline, who was being blessedly quiet. She was sitting in her brother's lap now, and he held his palm up for her to clap while his other arm snaked around her belly, holding her still. Every so often, though his eyes were on Major Klander and he looked morose, he moved his palm to the side, and Maline missed. Leia smiled at the baby's reaction, who was surprised each time it happened.

Leia quietly took her leave. Maline knew the answers to Jaf's questions, she thought. A new soul, fresh from the Force. Still of the Force, Leia thought, only able to respond to her instincts. Pure, as her mother had said.

There was no way this baby could conceive of harming her fellow beings the way the Empire harmed its citizens. They way Tarkin harmed Alderaan. She loved her brother, her mother. She loved her father, whom she wouldn't remember but forgave for dying. A baby was love and trust.

How did a human learn hate?

_I hate,_ Leia thought definitively. _I hate Tarkin. I hate Vader. And I hate the Empire._

When the war was over, and Force be willing the Alliance won, then what? Would Leia still hate?

Another thing the Death Star left her. It took the things she loved, and gave her something to hate instead.

Jaf Klander's voice drifted softly out of the courtyard as she descended the mountain path. She wasn't sure if she would plead with the goddesses to recreate Alderaan. But love... Life went on, and it couldn't without love.

If there was something, or someone, to love-

Was love truly physical, in the heart, as the goddesses said? Leia's hurt all the time.


	39. Resolution

Leia scrabbled down the mountain path, careful to watch her footing on the loose rocks. She didn't want to fall and risk another stain or tear to her Death Star gown.

_A new thought_, she marveled at herself. When she fell into a heap of garbage on the Death Star the stains on her senatorial robe became a badge of honor. They had not been laundered out. Those were earned, she emphasized, during an escape. She wasn't escaping the courtyard right now, so a dirt stain would merely be carelessness.

She'd wondered if she might flee, and was proud of her composure that she hadn't. There were moments, though. Moments where her breath caught, or her eyes darted around, where she was on the edge of... a terror.

She shook her head at herself. It sounded so extreme. And she hated the reaction, what all this had done to her. By the goddesses, Leia scorned herself, what would her mother say? _Put your fear where it belongs, Leilei. Remember they are looking _to _you. _

Facing down Vader seemed easier. She wondered why that was. The pain?- she could focus on the pain? Her tolerance for her own pain was high, but the courtyard holding thirty-three refugees was like a silent scream of agony.

_I exited,_ she narrated to herself as she navigated the path. _I __did not flee. _General Rieekan might have, though, and she was a bit concerned for him. He was stringent about observing Alderaani customs, particularly when dealing with Leia, and it was uncharacteristic of him to slip out of the courtyard unobserved.

She would check on him, Leia resolved. Her task list was growing. Things she knew she could accomplish.

The path had been carved out by the constant back and forth of the work crew. It would be paved soon. For now it was narrow and uneven. A delicate, pale green vine edged the sides. It looked like it was testing the traffic, waiting to see when it could jump to the other side. Leia stooped, throwing her long hair over her shoulder so she could examine the vine up close. The layer of topsoil was very thin, and the plant had adapted to reproduce from the roots, which took a tenacious hold into rock, even causing a gentle erosion. It only looked delicate. The vine was tough.

Like the Alderaani, Leia hoped.

First things first. _Change__ my hair, _she itemized. _Check on Carlist. Find Mon and- _

It occurred to Leia she might need to apologize. Or had her impulsive move to speak with the Alderaani refugees out of earshot of the crowd on the landing pad impressed the Minister? It was hard to say anymore.

Leia had nothing to base this on, but to her it felt like the relationship between her and Mon had to change. As Senators, Leia had been the Princess of Alderaan and Mon winner of the popular vote on Chandrila. Now she was the Minister of War and Leia princess of nothing...

_Go to the landing pad and learn the landing schedule. _

The _Millennium Falcon_ should have received clearance. From her vantage point the mountain gave Leia a clear view of the sea and the shoal beyond which doubled as a landing pad.

One ship remained at all times, in case of emergency. Each day a pilot cleaned it, ran a systems test, and took it for a short flight. There was space for one other craft to land, but not stay. Pilots were directed to remain in orbit or leave the system altogether. In addition to the _Falcon's _landing, Leia had heard of a shuttle which would transport members of the press and special guests back up to the home ship orbiting Buteral.

Leia had to admit she felt something about the _Falcon's _imminent landing. Excitement, tempered by marginal caution. She looked forward to the ship yes; seeing her would be like sinking into one's own bed after a long time away. A place to regroup, figure oneself out. And Chewie, warrior-sweet and loyal. She wanted to see Han, the same as she wanted to see Luke, only... more. Differently?

Luke had burst into her life. That's how it seemed to Leia, waiting in her cell for execution. Unplanned and unexpected, dropped by that god of irony and truth. Already full of admiration and love; fully formed. A kindred spirit. Terrible at rescues. Or maybe not, Leia allowed. To go undetected for as long as they had, and on the Death Star!

They were together two days after that, but with little time to _be_ together. Luke was in training for the position of pilot and Leia was busy with... she couldn't remember. Had she sought him out at all? And yet, while Leia thought of him during the month since, she hadn't...

She winced, because what was being explained in her own brain sounded rude and unfair. She hadn't, she frowned, missed him. Needed him? It wasn't that she disregarded him, or forgot him. It was... she didn't need to miss him. Yes. There was no missing something you already had. Her connection with Luke went beyond distance and time.

Leia's eyes traveled upward, into the dim light of an ugly sky, gray and cloudless before it turned black, to where Luke was in the _Homestead_ circling the submoon, watching out for her and everyone else. And to where Han and Chewie were awaiting word they could land.

Han hadn't burst into her life. When she had dashed down the corridor out of her cell- ahead of Luke, because at the time even he wasn't as important to her as Kenobi- the jarring scene of a Wookiee and a stormtrooper jointly firing at other stormtroopers had brought her to a halt.

Luke was dressed in armor too but it was obviously a disguise. Not so with this man and she failed to make the connection. Luke had only mentioned General Kenobi and the two droids. Leia was certain he'd said nothing about a partner or a Wookiee. Maybe it had been shock, the confusion of pain and torture. Blaster bolts were coming toward her and she distinctly remembered regret that the rescue was so short-lived. But it was still jarring. Out of place, Leia thought. An ememy trooper and a Wookiee on the Death Star!

Little things came to her, slowly. She noticed straight off the trooper was without a helmet. Luke's was a mask; he didn't count. Other than him, she had only ever seen a trooper in complete armor, covered head to foot in white. They almost looked like droids. Then she understood he hadn't turned his weapon on her, but was continuing to fire down the corridor. This was followed by an understanding she was looking at a head full of wavy brown hair. _Troopers had heads. They had hair. Nice hair. Troopers were men. This man was handsome._

And then Luke caught up to her, helmetless and in armor, and when she understood they were together, and that Luke relied on this trooper, this man, whoever he was, she grew irritated.

No, she amended, going back to her original thought, Luke was not good at rescues.

She'd spent more time with Han than she had with Luke. Lived on his ship for nine days. But she couldn't say she was closer to him. There was an... incompleteness to their friendship; something that needed doing or saying. Leia wasn't even sure from who. It just felt open-ended. It wasn't... cemented, like it was with Luke.

Leia shook the thoughts away. Han probably was not putting as much thought into the landing as she was.

_Distribute candles. Repay Han for his purchase. Just in case._

Mon had taken over one of the conference rooms. Two of her aides were in the room with her, the young man Leia had met previously and an older woman. There were also two service droids at work. The noise crowded Leia. She didn't want to stay, entering far enough into the room for someone to notice her.

Mon floated out of a chair, her white robes sailing behind her as she moved around the table. "Ah, Leia," she said gratefully. She clasped Leia gently by the biceps before enclosing her in a shallow embrace. "Carlist told me how it went. I always knew, Leia, how passionate a Senator you were. Now I see what a Princess you are."

Leia felt self-conscious in her own robes, once white and turned drab.

During the Old Republic, Senators gathered in a huge chamber. Their clothing, or lack thereof, helped identify their homeworld. When Palpatine formed the Empire and reclassified the class structure of the galaxy, the Imperial Senate became mostly human. The members voted to wear something to symbolize the office, a white robe. It was a feeble attempt by the Senators to remind Palpatine of their former power and influence. Mon chose to maintain use of the same garment while she formed the New Republic. To her, who had worked so hard at joining the Senate, the robes symbolized calm and logic. The sane side of war.

Mon didn't introduce the two humans and Leia had no intention of stepping on Mon's office. She added to her list. _Change into my uniform. _"The work is just beginning," she said after Mon released her.

"Yes, it is. Carlist also filled me in on your plan. It is intriguing. Ingenious, too, though I don't think you'll get far."

"That's not the point," Leia said.

"No." Mon smiled at her. "But you're staking a claim on territory I think the Emperor will rush to defend."

Leia nodded. "That is the point."

Mon was still smiling, looking as though terribly pleased to see Leia. "Will you sit?" she asked.

"No," Leia declined. "Thank you. I know you're busy. I wanted to- to thank you, for today. For arranging this, and placing special significance on the future service that will be done here on Buteral."

Mon's face sobered, and she nodded. "I'm leaving the press here. I invited these, and of course they are sympathetic to the Alliance. A shuttle will bring them back tonight, but they'll take as much time as they need and return if it is required. I've asked them to... not really interview, but record the oral histories of those who lived on Alderaan.

"In future generations, everyone will know of Alderaan the Destroyed Planet," Mon continued as Leia's bosom swelled with a powerful wave of gratitude. "But there won't be anyone alive who actually knows what it is like to have lived on it. I'd like to record their memories, so we always have something. You should add your voice too, Leia."

It was... well, quite possibly the most meaningful thing Mon had ever said to her. And Leia thought it might be Mon's greatest achievement as Minister of War.

Leia needed time to sort through all the sadness, symbolism, and friendship contained within the suggestion and stood mute, but Mon only gave her a pat on the shoulder before strolling back to the conference room table. "I'd like you to dine with me this evening. Chief Masawawi will be there. As will General Rieekan and Major Renzatl. Department heads."

Mon was letting her exit gracefully, so Leia took the opportunity and without confirming her dinner plans left to tackle another item on her list.

She found General Rieekan in his office. He looked busy, and she felt guilty for bothering him. "General Rieekan, do you have a moment?"

"Your Highness," General Rieekan greeted her formally, rising to his feet. "Glad to see we both are up and about," he said, as if they had been recovering from an illness.

He wasn't talking about her health, she knew, but how she fared after welcoming the first group of refugees. Evidently the day was tough for him. He was a parent, Leia remembered again. It seemed every time she met with him she saw the ghosts of his two sons. And the courtyard was filled with children. His eyes looked weak and bleary.

Leia gestured for him to resume his seat. "How are you, General Rieekan?"

"Glad it's over," he said with a heavy sigh, using his legs to pull the chair closer to his desk. "Mind you, I'm glad we started, but I'm glad that part is done. Now all that's left is the Minister's dinner."

Leia smiled at the mention of the staff dinner. "Are you not looking forward to it?"

"I mean absolutely no disrespect," Rieekan hastily said. "When it comes to the Minister I have no sense of humor, Princess Leia. I'm worried about her being here. I've an earpiece glued to the control room. I half expect the Emperor to make his move."

This was a serious matter, and Leia's mood changed abruptly. She shifted her feet. "Had you any indication-"

"No." Rieekan shook his head. "I've only got one squadron up there. Your friend, Skywalker." His gray eyes lit on her quickly. "They're monitoring orbital entry points. Fortunately for us, the mother moon limits those. They're stretched pretty thin. So far, no sign of the Empire."

Leia's breath was held in suspense, and she released it. "Do you really think Palpatine would try anything?"

"Her location right now is public knowledge, thanks to the press coverage she invited. If he wanted to get her, now would be easy. He's gotten everyone else. She doesn't agree with my assessment."

"It's a formal war now, General," Leia said, needing to reason it through. She understood Rieekan's viewpoint; it was an obvious move. But the Emperor was never obvious. "The others were... well, targets. Set-ups. Subtle assassinations. Public perception would backfire on him if he were to hit Buteral."

Rieekan scratched an ear. "That was Mon's logic. What kind of war is fought with public relations in mind?" he sounded frustrated and flung up a hand.

"And he wouldn't win," Leia was continuing to think aloud, "The war wouldn't be over if he killed the Minister. It's an office now; she would be replaced. We have the other bases."

Rieekan was struggling to accept her rationale. His eyes were cast downward. "I expect so. I appreciate your input."

"And I appreciate," Leia said as Princess, "how you did not let on about the tensions to the group from Bavasuuti."

Rieekan nodded curtly. "It's why I left early. It was all I could think about. Incoming." He cocked his head at Leia. "You don't- Your Highness, have those- you don't-"

"Have what, General Rieekan?" Leia prompted, because she thought she knew.

"Those feelings." His shoulders twitched. "Like the bottom is going to fall out any moment." They twitched again. "Fright."

"That's Alderaan," Leia said softly.

Rieekan's jaw moved. "I'm told I project how I feel my wife must have felt."

"Oh, Carlist," Leia said. He wouldn't accept an embrace she knew, so she took a step closer to his desk and touched his sleeve quickly. "I don't think my father was afraid," she told him. "He was resigned."

"Gods," Carlist said. "What a mess. Is everyone like we are, Your Highness?" He shook his head, and his fingers traveled over each data board on his desk. "You're dead, and I'm running around in a panic."

Leia actually laughed. "We're both far from that, aren't we?"

Rieekan grunted softly. "He's not an office," he said after a moment. "Palpatine. How I look forward to the day when we are rid of him. You know, Princess," Rieekan finally was able to make eye contact with her again, "I was thinking, what if the Minister were from Alderaan."

"Then Coruscant would be leveled," Leia replied.

Rieekan smiled fully. "Yes. That is her, isn't it." He pulled the bottom drawer of his desk out. "And not Imperial City, but Coruscant. I've never heard her use the new name." He held up a bottle. Leia was familiar with the label. It was an Alderaani wine.

"My fading stash," he said. "I packed a bottle for my trip to Naboo." He poured just two swallows in a glass and passed it to Leia. "Please join me, Your Highness," he said as he poured the orange liquid into a second.

Leia took hers and sniffed as Rieekan stood and lifted his glass. On Alderaan, she had rarely imbibed. She had to keep a level head.

"To the Minister," Rieekan toasted. "May the Force be with her, and with the New Republic."

Leia drank, and took her turn. "May solace and serenity grace the citizens of Alderaan once more."

Rieekan nodded, and took Leia's empty glass. "I like that, Your Highness," he told her. He sighed, and suddenly was a general again. "There will be many more arrivals, but without the pageantry. The Minister won't attend. This one was important."

"Yes. When will the next one arrive?" Leia asked.

Rieekan placed the empty glasses on a shelf. "The shuttle has already departed. I expect about a week."

Leia nodded. "I need to request a credit draft to the captain of the _Millennium Falcon. _If he is landing today, part of the cargo will be some candles I- we- he paid for them- obtained on Dantooine."

"This is the ship due in that took you to the Graveyard," Rieekan said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Leia fingered her face self-consciously, wondering how he knew. He had termed it discreetly. "They aren't the right size, Carlist, they're-"

"They'll do fine, Your Highness. I'll have them brought up to the residential platform. And we'll order more. Speaking of orders," Rieekan returned to his desk and shuffled data boards around. He did not sit. "I had a thought. I've got a holocall appointment about the civil suit in a bit."

Leia nodded appreciatively. Rieekan had gone right to work.

"You're welcome to sit in, Princess," he continued. "I'm going to ask the lawyer to keep you off Imperial City, but there's a chance they'll want you to appear. I don't want you going in uniform. Just my two credits."

"That's sensible," Leia agreed. She was thinking of a time past, Rieekan advising her father, both full of energy and vitality. It made her a little sad. "The suit is to be brought by residents of Alderaan."

"Exactly. And you are our Princess. It's important that if you go, you appear as that. Not as a member of the Rebel Alliance. I don't want you arrested the moment you step on Imperial soil simply because of your uniform.

"The Alliance has a contract with a uniform supply company," Rieekan grinned wryly. "Their contribution to the war effort. Here is the catalog." He passed it across the desk to Leia. "It's uniform-style items, nothing fancy. I'd order it plain, without insignia. Give it some thought, Your Highness. Or perhaps you'd go in what you are wearing now?"

Leia looked down at her Death Star gown. "This is my senatorial robe." One corner of her mouth tucked into her cheek. "Also out of date." She gave it some consideration. "But, I would like to call upon the court's memory of the honor of service and a more rational time. White is the color for that. Only something more practical." She nodded at the general. "Thank you. I'll look through it."

"Good. Is anything else on your mind, Your Highness?" Rieekan checked his chrono and then looked out the window. His grin was still mournful, Leia thought. "I'll be in attendance when the freighter lands. Another significant arrival. The Minister would like to meet the crew."

Leia's brows rose. "She would?"

"For their part in the Battle," Rieekan nodded. "She was unable to attend the awarding of the Medal of Bravery."

"That's right, she was," Leia murmured. Her eyes turned to the window. "It seems like so long ago. I borrowed a dress of hers. Will he- the crew, I mean- be at the dinner?" Leia was amused at the thought.

"No," Rieekan was decisive. He shook his head. "Not that kind of dinner."

"Has she met Commander Skywalker?"

"I believe so. Up in orbit, when she docked with the home ship."

Leia nodded. "If you'll let me know when it arrives. There is something else I'd like to discuss with you: developing a sponsorship program from established Alderaani family for those who are too young to live on their own, or need time getting back on their feet. It would mean obtaining a mailing list, or contact list, from worlds with Alderaani communities."

Rieekan regarded her thoughtfully. "I think it might be time to add a droid to your office staff," he told her. "It's interesting, isn't it Your Highness, the effect the others have had on us. I feel as if they are the ones who decided things for me."

"Yes. But-" and Leia remembered the distressed state of the young girl's embroidered cuff. If the day was difficult for both Leia and Carlist, who was to say it wasn't for the refugees? TRAD had their work cut out for them. "I believe we have had the same effect on them."

* * *

Leia next went to her quarters. _Find out from Luke if I can use C-3PO again. _It wasn't an escape this time, like the times after Tide's Rush when she walked the newly fallen darkness, or that time when she hid in John D. Bannon's room.

_John Bannon._ She hadn't thought that name in a long time. _We passed you by, _she thought. _Kept on living. _

Her father did need forgiveness and she offered it to him, fully. Otherwise would he be a ghost? she wondered. Is that how the stories started? When something in the living realm was so important that a death had to be postponed?

And Tarkin fell away; she assigned him... as a blip. She could still hear him say it, that awful accusation of trust, but that was just him talking. It was all him. She wasn't going to lie: it still angered her, but the burning shame didn't rise. It was more an angry disappointment. It felt... duller. There was disappointment too, towards Darth Vader. He had worked with Tarkin. He must have known what he was like. Why else had his fingers dug into Leia's shoulders so hard? Leia was a prisoner clinging to a vital piece of information; Vader was a colleague, powerful and dangerous on his own. He should have done something.

She was in the middle of the office, as far from the window as she had been from the viewport of the Death Star, only that one was huge. She could see out of this one now, thanks to the lighting system, and she strode to the window, opened it and peered out. Way off to the right, high up, was the residential platform. There was movement at the courtyard. And down, straight ahead, was the bridge and the landing pad. Three people were on the bridge, arms dangling over the railing. A CTC water craft buzzed over the surface of the seabed, displacing muck and leaving a wake. Not a shadow, but the air pushing against it from the repulsor engines. The landing pad showed little activity.

Leia turned from the window and reviewed her list. To hack through an assignment, one thing at a time, must be like clearing a path in a jungle. You couldn't see where you were going, but it was easier for those who followed. And at the end... well, maybe there was treasure, or maybe there was sucksand.

Whichever. She was game. She was a pioneer.

Leia changed her clothes. It might be the last time she donned her Death Star gown, though she had thought that before. As she had then, she took great care in putting it away. It took her a long time to redo her hair. The overhand knots at her crown were easy to undo but the long lengths of each strand tended to tangle. After brushing it out- she missed her maidens again, differently this time; she missed them for the help they lent her- she chose a historic pattern of plaiting dating to before the Recent Experiment.

_Reset Experiment, _she added to the list, but she might not see that one finished. That might be how it went.


	40. Balance

The small bulge of her father's holocube, the one she'd found in his belongings on Yavin, nudged Leia's wrist reassuringly from where it was nestled inside the thigh pocket of her pants. It had become part of her uniform.

She wasn't sentimental; it wasn't a token. It was a... systems check. Touching it made her pause. The cube's contents- pictures of the Queen and little Leia- were cause and effect, and she always listened when it made itself known on her person. She stopped to reflect on what she said, how she acted. It was important, now more than ever, to do this right. To weigh all the possible outcomes.

When she changed out of her Death Star gown and slid it into her pocket... it told her to sit. To take a moment. She only set her rear on the edge of the chair at her desk, apprehensive and wondering, _what now?_ Her posture was hunched, drawn inward. She paid little attention to the sound of the wind coming through the window over low tide, or the persistent, rhythmic flash of a miniature green light from the comm on her desk. She was deep in thought, knuckles at her chin.

She was back- not _on _the Death Star but _to _it, as a topic. It was... the reason.

Was that overly dramatic, Leia wondered? Perhaps. A turning point, then. Dr. Renzatl had a phrase for it: formative moment. Something like that.

She never saw it from space, the way the occupants of the _Millennium Falcon _had when the tractor beam drew them in. Never looked behind when they left; not really. She was in the cockpit for a while with Chewie while they battled Tie fighters, and of course it was out there, nearby, but she was fighting to keep her stomach- the Wookiee rolled the ship repeatedly- and she was watching the indicator lights. When Han came in to set the nav'puter, she didn't dare look out the viewport. She figured she'd see it again, when she had him set the coords and they arrived at Yavin.

That, and he was so full of himself she momentarily forgot it.

"We thought it was a moon," Luke had told her while they traveled to Yavin through hyperspace. _Our disappearing act,_ that's what Han had called entry into hyper, even though she kept telling him the Death Star was tracking them. It was then she had learned who Luke really was, when hyper was so maddeningly calm she paced the ship like a caged animal.

_I don't want to disappear, bring us all to Yavin!_

That captain and his medscan. The farm boy and his chatter.

"It was as big as a moon anyway. And-" Luke twisted his lips, considering. "So...round_._ Perfectly round. It had features, you know like a lifeless moon might? Valleys and craters. Only they were Wookiee-made trenches and exhaust ports."

Wookiee-made. The Intergalactic Lexicon of Basic gave the term entry into the language about fifteen years ago, a few years after the Empire stopped turning a blind eye to slavery and actually gave its approval. It was offensive to Leia, even more so now she knew a Wookiee.

_An object, usually of substantial size and created by hand in the manner of a forced labor, typically comprised of but not limited to Wookiees. _

Bail Organa hated the Empire for the mass execution of the Force-sensitive, even the young; he hated it for the corruption and the violence that marred and tainted the last years of the Old Republic, an institution he loved and respected. Leia, a generation later, hated the Empire for words like Wookiee-made.

Words like that, out of the mouth of a farm boy from Tatooine who really meant nothing by it, told her how difficult the fight against the Empire really was. Attitudes and social prejudices would be left behind long after the Imperials were tried for war crimes. If she managed to take down the Empire, they would need another generation to truly erase it. Just as it was Bail's generation to start the fight, he needed Leia's to finish it, and hers would need help to-

It flashed into her head, a bad joke: _I'll need to have a baby. Or adopt one._

It wasn't funny, and it hurt, because Leia was adopted. All those conversations. _We chose you, we always wanted a little girl..._oh, if he were here now, she would demand to know. _Chose me, so there would be a Queen? Wanted me, to carry on your fight? _

It took away from her grief, and made her a little angry, to think that Bail Organa started a family because he hated Sheev Palpatine.

_He loved you, _someone whispered, her mother or the ghost of a maiden. _You know he did. _

Bail had told her he learned of the death in childbirth of a dear friend, but if he took Leia in because of Palpatine's actions- his friend must have died during the transition, Leia thought; maybe even because of the transition; the timing was right- Bail had come to love Leia. Loved being a father. She knew that. Felt it, even now.

Leia drew her elbows in to her abdomen. She was not going to be angry with her father because of his feelings about the Emperor. She was not going to allow the Empire to take one more thing from her. Anger served the Empire, didn't it?

It took some willpower, but she forced her thoughts away from her father, or anyway back to the thing that killed him. Yes. Be angry at the Death Star.

It had brought her to a very dark place. Leia contemplated this a moment. Dark places were real. They had viewports that showed planets blowing up and cells so tiny you couldn't move. But, wasn't it true she wasn't there anymore?

She looked around where she sat. Buteral was a different kind of darkness, and not even that anymore since the Alliance had completed the lighting system. Her office was small but there was enough room to pace back and forth, and now the hole in the wall, the window, showed her the seabed under the bright lights. A month ago it was hard to say she had escaped. Not from the dark place; only from the Death Star. She could see herself, how small she looked, how lost. Yes, she'd left, but in pieces. No- that indicated having fallen apart. More like... chunks of her were missing. Family, and soil. Like a meteor, pockmarked and scarred from all the hits it took, looking for a gravity well so it wouldn't burn up in atmo.

Affection formed a slight smile. It sounded better when a Wookiee told it.

Allowing the Death Star to track them to Yavin was a gamble but Leia won. She brought the plans, proving the Death Star was vulnerable and sending cracks through the veneer of the Emperor's shiny gray Empire. And she brought two men and a Wookiee.

_Oh, _she thought, dropping the knee from her leg. _I did get something from the Death Star. Besides hate and loss. _

She had not forgotten them, only not taken into consideration their part. Luke, Han and Chewie were on the Death Star. They came on the _Millennium Falcon. _And they all left together. Therefore, Luke, Han and Chewie were important.

Leia nodded to herself. That was sound reasoning. It was fine, then, that she sat at her desk, waiting. It was refreshing to see that sitting at her desk this time was not avoidance. She wasn't writing names, just to pass the time until darkness, when she could leave. She was sitting, waiting, for... continuance.

She was waiting for the _Millennium Falcon. _

If Mon could throw a working dinner party then surely Leia was entitled-

Leia took a controlling breath, and resumed her reasoning. Grand Moff Tarkin was dead. So was General Kenobi. Luke, Han and Chewie were not. She had spent a lot of energy on Tarkin. She felt a little foolish for it now; it felt like time wasted.

Dr. Renzatl would discourage that kind of thinking. _You spent time on yourself. Tarkin took a chunk of you. You're learning to replace it. _

She could hear Han, whose own scar masked something. _Need some putty? _

She had _won, _gods damn it, and her fists clenched, and she said it again, more calmly. _I won._

Balance. She needed balance.

But then a frown crossed her face. Something Luke had pointed out. There was one other who wasn't dead. "Darth Vader," Luke had named, "if we're going to look at both sides."

If Luke, Han and Chewie were important...

Leia tried to fight the logic, but she had started it, and it seemed like an equation. The weight of the scales was tilted.

...then Darth Vader was, too.

Both sides.

Was this more complicated?

Of course it was: they were at war! It wasn't just Leia; it was right and wrong, good and bad. It was love and hate.

Which meant...

Leia didn't feel like doing this now. She was tired. She slumped her back on the chair, her rear still on the edge. She'd already done so much, been through so much. All she wanted was-

She lowered her chin and gazed sadly at her fingers. Stupid god of irony and truth. Was this all she was going to get? A measly amount of time spent with the three beings who let her be herself?

Because of the war. She was swallowed by the war.

Resenting the war didn't seem productive. Especially when Leia- the part of her that was whole, the memory of her- believed in it.

_The Death Star,_ she reminded herself. _Luke, Han and Chewie._

The opposite of friends was enemies. Well, her hands rolled gently in her lap as she continued to ruminate her equation, at least they outnumbered the other side.

She frowned anew. That tilted the scales again. Too many friends against one enemy. Was that... unfair?

Maybe it meant Vader was all their enemy. Luke's, certainly. Maybe he was very powerful, and four against one evened the odds. Or, maybe Vader- he wouldn't have a friend on his side, and Leia pitied him for a microsecond- perhaps Vader had an aid. The Emperor? The whole Empire? The Force?

It was back to Luke. Vader was his formative moment, wasn't he.

What if...Leia's brow creased. If she was sitting here looking at her hands considering all angles then she had to plug Han and Chewie inside her equation. Or just Han, for she had the feeling Chewie wouldn't break from Han. Not because he followed orders blindly, and she remembered the pair's argument about the rocks in the Graveyard, but because...he kept him safe?

Copilot, partner, and... bodyguard? Han needed a bodyguard? That didn't fit, somehow. On the Death Star, when Han chased the stormtroopers and he hollered at the others, "Get back to the ship!", he included Chewie, didn't he? It would make sense, because Chewie knew how to fly the _Falcon. _Han hadn't ordered Chewie to help give chase.

_Chewie! Get ahead of me and kill those bastards! _Or _Chewie! Follow me and make sure I don't get killed!_

Leia smiled and sat straight again, the other knee over the opposite leg. It was amusing, to imagine those words instead of Han's attack bellow. She indulged a moment, remembered the athletic twist of his torso, blaster pointed one way, eyes the other. His eyes were at Luke and Leia. Something about him, and her shoulders lifted in an involuntary shiver, was appealing. She didn't know what it was. He was fun to think about.

But there better be more to him than money! she repeated to herself what she had told him after the Battle was won. What if, instead of four against one, Leia- and Luke, too- were wrong, and Han would go over to Vader's side...

No. Leia shook her head, rejecting the thought completely. He'd made it clear he didn't want any part of the Rebellion, but he wasn't an Imperial sympathizer, either. He was trying to stay clear of both sides. And failing, Leia thought smugly. Taking pay from the Alliance wasn't exactly impersonal. It was an excuse.

Luke thought their experiences on the Death Star had stayed with Han enough to keep him around the Alliance, buzzing on the fringes.

_Look here, god of irony and truth, _Han would shake his finger sternly at the divine being, _you leave me out of this, you hear? _

Too late, Han Solo. Leia smiled again, and noticed the flashing green light on her comm. She pulled it to her, and activated the message. It looked to be a long one.

"Hi, Leia. It's me."

Though he didn't give his name, of course it was Luke. For one, few had her comm; for another, few used just her name. And he didn't follow standard operations of communication the Alliance laid out. Luke, Leia would guess, had probably not even read the manual. The comm was not for personal use.

Luke's soft voice continued. "I wanted to see how you are. I know it's probably been, well, a tough day but I hope a good day too? Anyway, we're still flying patrol, especially since the Minister is dirtside. And she's staying overnight, I hear. But we're not allowed longer than six hours in the cockpit, so I'll get a break.

"I won't manage it when the _Falcon_ lands but I was thinking maybe Han can bring you up? I'll probably leave the system when the Minister does, and I want one more chance to see you.

"Han says you probably won't be able to; he says you'll be being a Princess top to bottom. I'm not sure what he meant, but my guess is between Minister Mothma and your people? Anyway, if it doesn't work out just wanted to say bye then, and I'm thinking of you. Luke out."

_Luke out._ Leia smiled fondly. Funny, how procedural behavior rolled off Luke like oil on water. Red Five, Rogue Leader, hero of Yavin, future of the Jedi. The Alliance estimated they were getting quite a lot from Luke Skywalker.

_It's me. _Luke was humble, caring, and earnest. Those were qualities of a hero, Leia thought. He'd shown them, as well as his inexperience, on the Death Star. Whereas Han- _I amaze myself_\- was definitely not humble; _better her than me_\- and no, not very caring, evidently; in fact, Leia recalled all their interactions on the Death Star and things Luke had told her from before, his whole language was... not defiant. It was resistant.

Suddenly, Leia grasped it. It was Chewie. The Wookiee didn't keep Han safe; he kept his heart. The _Falcon _landed at Yavin next to Luke's X-Wing because of Chewie. And, it gave what might be for Chewie a rare sighting: Han Solo truly happy.

_Didn't want you to get all the reward, _Han had mumbled sheepishly, ruffling Luke's hair and grinning like a monkey-lizard.

A reward, Leia lifted her head and notified what lay out the window, feeling like a wise queen, was often more than money.

Balance. Luke, Han and Chewie _on_ the Death Star was equal to Luke, Han and Chewie _off_ the Death Star.


	41. Resentment, II

There was a difference between living somewhere and enjoying life there.

That was the reason for Mon's dinner, wasn't it, Leia thought. To mark the transformation from office to home.

She was standing at her window, just looking outside. She marked the spot on the bridge with her eyes where she and Luke had talked. The lights caught the rising swells of the sea waves.

He would only visit once probably, she thought, but she was glad he saw it. Saw her here. Tide's Rush had taken him by surprise, but Han would miss it. Today, at least.

Leia raised her brows at herself. She saw Luke here just once, but not so Han?

Luke was stationed, she reasoned. On another base, and he had deployments. But Han smuggled. There was no reason for him to come here often; Buteral didn't hide its mission to gather refugees. But, Leia argued with herself, Luke says he leaves and comes back.

_That's all you got? _she asked coyly of herself.

Her thoughts drifted back to Luke, who found a home anywhere, maybe because Tatooine was chosen for him as a baby. The way he told the story, his aunt and uncle were getting ready to finish a long day. They were outside and the suns were setting, "probably shutting the generators down," Luke had said, when a stranger came. He was carrying a baby.

"And just like that they were parents," Luke snapped his fingers. "Totally unprepared."

Leia smiled gently. Buteral had much in common with the Lars family.

Buteral would make itself a home. The landing pad had the inventory for the _Millennium Falcon's_ cargo, and there were, besides the food General Rieekan was looking forward to, things to read, paint, puzzle, chase. The CTC had clothing, hygiene products, itinerant doctors and teachers.

Major Klander was evidently finished with the school group, or anyway had given them some free time. The mid-meal was awaiting the _Falcon's_ landing, and Leia could see dark figures moving around the paths and bridges as they explored their new surroundings.

Alderaan had created the strangest duality, she thought, watching two people race across the bridge. At least in her, and she wondered if the others felt it too. When she resented she also wanted to beg, when she pitied she spat. The language would need new words. Or maybe just a new adjective, prefacing another. Alderaan-angry meant hostile but terrified, too; Alderaan-home was a refuge someone wanted to reject. Sometimes, when she remembered to realize how close in age she was to these school children, she felt so old at the same time she felt brand new. Alderaan-old.

_I'm twenty._

She didn't know to whom she was talking; herself or her maidens; it just needed saying.

_Only twenty. I speak several languages, I hold several degrees. I have the distinction of being one of the youngest Senators ever elected. I beat Darth Vader. And yet-_

She had the large sensation of being incomplete. Of... that all that work, study and training, had come at the expense of something else.

Mon had called her passionate. Han called her a princess, Luke said she was brave. She would say of herself, _I'm smart. I'm… _

Mon used the wrong word. Passion came from the heart; her Senate work was completely cerebral. It was about belief; nothing had touched her personally. Alderaan had shielded her. Until... Alderaan.

_I'm... dedicated. Committed. A Princess. Female._

She was going to say woman, but then thought twenty wasn't old enough for that. But it was too old for girl.

She had decided she would go down and greet Han, but wavered on the how, and was annoyed at herself. Why didn't she know?

It would be in the capacity of Princess, because that never went away. And Mon Mothma would be there, so it was an official welcoming. It was a minor, yet important detail to which a leader had to attend. The kind of detail Han no longer viewed as important.

_Keep on being a Princess._

What had he meant by that, exactly?

Initially, from things he said on the Death Star, a Princess was born into wealth and command. But then followed nine days on a ship together...

There had to be more. Because _keep on being a Princess_ had been a good thing to say.

Well, anyway, she had liked it.

He… admired her? Liked her? Felt for her, certainly. What she was going through. Knew what it was like to spit and pity simultaneously.

That wasn't the Princess part. That was the… girl or woman part, whichever she was.

_What I want to do, is greet him. Like I greeted Luke. Not hide that I am glad to see him and Chewie._

But Mon would be there, and General Rieekan, and no one_, ever- has seen me-_

Realization washed over her and there was a beginning of a fight she didn't want. Alderaan-shielded. Leia swatted the thought away with a shake of her head. But another one coiled in like a vapor, _even the maidens_...

Han would take it wrong, but it couldn't be helped. And with Mon there, he would take it worse.

Who was he, anyway. Why should she worry about hurting his delicate feelings-

Because he was-

One brow lowered as the way to describe him came to her, and she wasn't sure why she was suddenly uncomfortable with herself. He was passionate.

On the Death Star, she had fought with her heart. She was impulsive, fierce, and desperate. That was the Leia he would want to see on Buteral.

There was one way out. It might be like shooting a wall, but-

Leia left her office.

* * *

"Excuse me, Minister?" Leia used Mon's title because she was deep in conversation with an aide.

When the Minister looked up, Leia got the feeling she was used to being interrupted and expected bad news. Her glance was sharp and appraising.

"Leia? Yes, what is it?"

"I stopped by to tell you," Leia folded her hands in front of her, tranquil, and took a step into the office, "I won't be able to make your dinner tonight."

Mon lowered the file she was holding and turned her body to Leia. The aide next to her stepped back. "You won't?" she said, trying to sound disappointed. Instead it came out surprised. "I am shipping out in the morning. I was hoping to be able to spend some time with you."

"The dinner is with department heads," Leia reminded her a little sarcastically.

"And Oolanda Massawawi. And a journalist. Another chance to promote our side of the war. Also, a chance for all of you to reflect, to be pensive, perhaps even to celebrate a little bit."

An Alderaan-dinner, Leia thought to herself.

Mon was watching thoughts play across Leia's face. "Will you be dining with your people?"

"No."

"No? I'd rather you not be alone."

"There's no need to worry about me, Mon," Leia said, annoyance creeping into her voice. Why should tonight be different than the others? "I won't be. Commander Skywalker comm'd me earlier and asked to see me."

"Commander Skywalker," Mon repeated thoughtfully. "I got to meet him finally. We are lucky to have him. And I understand his colleague in arms, Captain Solo, is it? will be here as well."

Leia almost clarified it. _You mean Alderaan-colleague. _"Yes," was all she said.

"The shuttle carrying the press returns to the docking station late, and the dinner will be over. You could go then?"

"His timing is tricky," Leia explained. "He's on patrol, and he's got a small window of free time. Then he's leaving the system in the morning with you. I thought I would ask Captain Solo to bring me up on the _Millennium Falcon_ when the cargo is unloaded."

"I can see why you feel a connection to them," Mon was nodding, but she didn't sound pleased. "They were there at a critical moment in your life. I just want to see you move forward."

Leia swallowed to keep the irritation out of her voice. "I am moving forward. Look at what we've accomplished here. But you just don't hang a medal on someone and then walk away."

Mon's brows went up. "What are you saying? Is there something you feel hasn't been addressed properly? Commander Skywalker was quickly elevated through the ranks. As for Captain Solo, if he-"

Leia interrupted, "This is not about them. It's about-"

"You? Obviously you are not walking away," Mon said. "if your duty to them supercedes-" she cut it off abruptly.

Leia pressed her lips together. When she spoke again, it was with forced calmness. "On the Death Star, I was given a choice. My life, or the location of the Rebellion. The war is on, Mon, so you know what I chose. Just because I am standing here does not mean I did not surrender something."

"Leia," Mon agonized. "I can't pretend to understand what you went through. And of course, they rescued you."

Leia wanted to snort but controlled herself. "I don't feel I owe them my life, but... they value it differently than any other."

Mon sighed. "You are valued, I hope you know that." She reached out and touched Leia's shoulder. "You've been my colleague, and in three years you would ascend to Alderaan's throne. I think it's because he's gone, but I see you as Bail's daughter more than anything else."

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop with another heavy sigh. "It is just a dinner. And I see that having you there might be me parading dessert before the entree, and that is not fair to you. I need to constantly remind myself that while we fight a war with weapons, it is beings that fire them."

Mon gazed at Leia softly, who felt... Alderaan-something. She was grateful for the tenderness but she wanted to slap it away.

"Thank you for telling me, Leia. Have a nice evening." Mon turned her body toward the aide, who stepped forward again, and Leia saw the discussion was done.

The Minister finally succeeded in sounding disappointed, Leia thought as she left.

* * *

The noise was distant, still in the background. Loud enough so that one didn't know they were hearing it, yet they reacted from their subconscious. It made Rieekan glance at his chrono. Leia heard it, and she knew.

If her twelve maidens were here, several wouldn't notice the noise but a few would. One, no nonsense and sharp, would say it. "The ship's broken into atmo, Your Highness," and that would start them off. They were- extensions of her. Leia would sit among them, observant, while they tittered and gossiped and speculated. Her maidens did all the feeling, Leia saw now, but it was also true they kept her objective.

Rieekan resumed working, but his concentration was broken and he was frowning, trying to recall a thought. Leia didn't bother to pretend she was working and used her ears, which were no good as a gauge except to tell her how low in the sky the ship was.

When the open window rattled Rieekan finally paid real attention to the noise. He checked his chrono again. "It's forty-five minutes early," he muttered. "If we had a queue-"

Leia smiled to herself and shook her head. The thrusters hadn't even touched ground and already Han was stirring controversy.

"Someday we'll have a queue," Rieekan was still grumbling. He pulled out his comm. "Unless-" he said, suddenly worried. He keyed up the control room. "I hear a ship," he said into it. "Yes, yes, it's what I thought. How's the situation at Home? Nothing? You're sure. Alright. Yes, permit him to land. Thank you."

Rieekan glared at Leia a moment, who looked back innocently with her eyebrows raised. "The _Millennium Falcon_ is landing," he spoke into his comm again. "Ahead of schedule. The Minister wanted to be apprised. Yes. Thank you."

He strode to the window. "Why do you suppose he's early?" he asked.

Leia took it as a rhetorical question. "Home?" she asked. "Is that the name for the docking vessel?"

Rieekan nodded. "The Minister will be on her way," he said, facing Leia before turning to look toward the shoal. "Oh," he said, sounding disappointed.

"What is it?" Leia asked, and got up to join him at the window. She noted the shoal, and movement; techs preparing for a landing. The bridge spanned between Rieekan's office and the shoal, and again dark figures loitered. When she looked up-

Above the lights the sky was black. A lenticular cloud, a dull gray- but it was cloudless here- occupied its own space high above them. It was the _Millennium Falcon _moving, so slowly downward it seemed more a trick of the eye, and it was loud. Her heart gave a thump.

"Nothing." Rieekan closed the window to block out the sound. "Only- that's the ship that brought you to the Graveyard, Princess?"

"I told you I went," Leia said. "How did you hear it was that ship?"

"A communication. After your arrival at Shino-ak," Rieekan was watching the landing and not paying too much attention to Leia.

Someone on the bridge was pointing and another looked to have covered their hands over their ears. The ship was well in view now, a bright speck in the low tide sky. A falling star, Leia thought, and remembered the Wookiee legend. _Come home, spirit._

"Was it Admiral Ackbar?" she asked, pressing the issue. The idea of such high-ranking officials talking about her was irritating. _They're like a bunch of maidens_, Leia thought.

A grunt of a laugh escaped Rieekan. "No, Your Highness. Mon Calamari aren't that interested in humans. The Minister informed me."

Leia hoped her silence expressed her disapproval.

Rieekan was still gazing outside. "It's... a YT," he identified diplomatically. "An antique, by the looks of her. She's seen better days."

"I observed the same when I first saw her on the Death Star," Leia said wryly. "Only not as politely."

The _Millennium Falcon _was a little higher than the mountains now. Heat from the engines, or maybe the intensity of sound waves, broke the air into pieces. The cockpit, located starboard of the bow, faced the shoal. A ground tech was waving lights back and forth.

Rieekan turned to her and smiled the smile of a grieving parent. "I'm sure you didn't know what to expect with your rescue, Your Highness."

"Certainly not that," Leia said of the ship, smiling softly. "Not him. Not anything." The _Falcon _sailed over to the shoal, and landing thrusters were lowering.

Rieekan returned to musing about ship models. "My father had two YTs in his shipping fleet. He sold them after a time. When the light years add up an older ship isn't as reliable."

"I had noticed that too," Leia commented. Her gaze was intent, watching for signs of activity. "It's an odd-looking ship, isn't it?"

"That's the YT," Rieekan agreed. "You don't see them as much anymore. They quit making them... oh, a long time ago. Any around now are antique, I would venture to say." He shook his head once. "Reminds me of my youth." He smiled again contentedly this time. "I was third generation to serve the House of Organa, and when I was too young to start my training, I hung about the hangar, the one at your official residence. I loved looking at and talking about ships."

"I can't say I gave them a spare thought," Leia confessed. "My father enjoyed speeder models."

"He did," Rieekan glowed with affection. "I did, too."

"He had a small collection, and he hardly used them. We did have one ship in the fleet I thought was pretty, a Nubian."

"I know exactly the one you mean," Rieekan beamed. "Beautiful ship."

"More of a personal craft, though. He didn't get to use that one much, either."

The memories were frank, just facts. Abruptly, the noise of the landing quit, and Leia sighed in relief.

"The YTs were a short range line." Rieekan seemed to genuinely enjoy the topic of freighter design. "You used to see a lot of them in the space lanes around the Core. An economy model. Round and squat. It was an experiment in design. Almost a fad. Trying to cram as much cargo space as they could. It didn't last long, though. Pilots like a sleek, aerodynamic ship."

Leia thought of the hidden floor panels Han added for contraband. "She suits this captain," she said.

Rieekan grunted again. "First impressions?" he said slyly. "In disrepair. Which to me indicates the captain can't afford upkeep, which indicates he can't be very good at what he does."

Leia smiled. "That's so you underestimate him."

"Ah," Rieekan had his brows up, like he'd discovered something. "There, on the stern, portside," his finger knocked on the glass. "That's where what is considered the incidentals and upgrades are typically installed. I'm not sure what he put up there, but I notice something's missing. See the carbon scoring? There are a few spots." Rieekan actually sounded concerned.

"I'm not sure if those weren't there earlier," Leia said. "As I said, the ship wasn't in the greatest shape when I first saw her."

Her first impression had not been a good one. And Leia remembered too Luke told her his first sighting of the _Falcon _filled him with dismay.

"I called her junk," Luke had said. "Put Han on the defensive."

It was after they made their escape from the Death Star and were on their way to Yavin. The brief skirmish with the Tie fighters had caused some damage and they were trying to repair what they could in-flight.

"That's okay," Leia assured Luke, holding a light for him to see inside a panel. "I called her That."

Luke had grinned. "I heard you. I think it's the reason Han and I got off on the wrong foot," he added.

"Wrong foot," Leia puzzled. She hadn't seen anything of the sort. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe not," Luke conceded. "The whole time in hyper on the way to you-"

_On the way to you_\- What a nice way to put it. _On the way to Alderaan, before the Death Star captured us, _was how the story went, but Luke already changed the narrative for himself.

"- he made a point to call Ben crazy and the Force nonsense, and because I was his student that made me naive."

Leia dismissed Luke's impressions as faulty. "He was searching very hard for you in that garbage water when the dianaga pulled you under."

"Was he?" Luke looked flattered a moment, and then his face fell. "Probably afraid to tell Ben I got drowned by a creature.

"But, I changed my mind," Luke added, even as he pulled a fistful of tangled and scorched wires from a panel. His eyes went to Leia's face, no doubt reading the look of horror in her eyes.

Leia was thinking, _My mission didn't fail with Vader; it didn't fail with Tarkin. It's going to fail because of this ship. _

"She's not junk," Luke stated. "I don't know what Han has done to her, but somewhere along the line some heart got installed." He added confidently, "We'll make it, Leia."

Rieekan turned from the window, pulling Leia from her reverie. "Damn, the Minister is halfway there. Excuse me, Your Highness."

He started to close up data screens and prepare to lock the office. Leia watched from her spot at the window.

"Oh, here's the credit draft you requested," he extended his arm and Leia reached for it. "I better get down there."

Leia took the chip and pocketed it with her father's holocube, and scanned the view spread before her. It was impossible to identify a specific person, they were high up and far away, but there was a figure dressed in stark white moving swiftly.

"I'll come with you," she said.

"We need to make quick work of the unloading," the general said as he palmed the door shut behind them. "There's a meal to prepare and very little on the shelves. I'd rather not break out the CTC's rehy."

* * *

She and Rieekan strolled down to the landing pad. Watching the waves as one walked was disorienting, and she hit the ground too hard once.

"What is this dinner tonight?" Leia asked Rieekan. "Will they be using food from this delivery?" She didn't like the idea of an unscheduled meal. The ordered supplies were for the residents, not guests.

"No, the Minister planned the dinner liked she planned the whole event. She brought her own menu. Droid chef as well. I believe it's in appreciation for a job well done."

"I told Mon I wouldn't be able to attend," Leia informed Rieekan.

"You'll be missed," Rieekan replied judiciously, though he looked a little envious. "Going to see Skywalker again?" he guessed.

Leia nodded. "Who knows how long it will be before I see them again," she said. "Commander Skywalker will leave the system in the morning, and Captain Solo-" She let it hang.

"He's private," Rieekan understood.

"Again, you're polite, General. I think he would prefer the term mercenary."

"Is that so I underestimate him, Princess?" Rieekan asked.

Leia smiled fondly. "He needs money."

Rieekan shrugged, unimpressed. "Who doesn't."

The _Falcon_ rested quietly, still closed up. A tech dressed in dull-colored coveralls waited nearby and a repulsor cart was moving toward it.

Rieekan and Leia stopped talking as Chewie descended the ramp. From their higher vantage point, they watched him circle the ship, his bowcaster held at the ready, and then he let himself enjoy a full stretch. Leia smiled to herself.

"A Wookiee," Rieekan remarked. "I wasn't sure to believe what I'd heard. Is he a slave?"

"No," Leia said, her smile turned to mild annoyance. "He's copilot."

"Well, that can be a titular position, Your Highness, but it's also a secondary role to fill. I suppose I made the obvious assumption, since he's a Wookiee. I meant no offense."

"I know you didn't." Leia frowned. She didn't know the exact nature of the relationship between Han and Chewie. She had asked, once, but the timing wasn't right. And to assume a Wookiee was a slave was, unfortunately, an obvious conclusion.

Palpatine had established a classification system of beings' status within his Empire. The superior order were humans, and everything after that were subclasses. Many systems were classified as slave worlds, and Kasshyyk, the Wookiee homeworld, was plundered for its source of labor.

"They're partners, I believe," Leia said, still thinking.

Had she even received a proper introduction? The only one who gave his name was Luke when he entered her cell on the Death Star. She'd learned Chewie's name... when? And only by hearing Han, then also nameless, use it. But then, she conceded, a botched rescue of a Princess was not the time to consider niceties.

It wasn't until after they were away and she'd called the captain a mercenary that Luke named Han. Probably in hopes that it would soften her bitterness.

"They're outlaws," she continued. "They use the ship for smuggling. Captain Solo calls Chewbacca 'pal'."

"Something happened," Rieekan stated. "Generally, if a Wookiee is offplanet, it's against their will. Did you ever hear of one turning to smuggling?"

"You're right, it is unusual," Leia agreed. "It's funny; they are- I don't know- natural together. I accepted them as a team, like it was all I needed to know."

"I bet the Wookiee doesn't encounter open minds such as yours all the time. And, at any rate, I would also bet there aren't many humans who set out with ambition to become a smuggler."

"That's true, too," Leia acknowledged. She and Rieekan had reached the shoal. Mon Mothma was waiting by the ramp.

_Ambition to become a smuggler. _How true that was. Ask any of the school group here- ask any young child, Leia thought, what their goal in life was, and she doubted any of them would pipe up proudly, "I'm going to be a smuggler! I'm going to break laws and risk imprisonment!"

Two men and a Wookiee, Leia thought. _These_ two men. To remind her, as if Alderaan wouldn't, how far removed from reality a Princess was? She wouldn't have thought so. Yet, in the Senate, in her travels, while she might deplore the concept of slavery, she had no first-hand knowledge of the simple struggle of a farmer in a desert, or of a man resorting to crime because he had to.

Arms wide and smiling, Luke had jumped out of his X-Wing when he landed on Buteral, but it was Han's boots Leia saw first, scuffed and dull black. If he knew he would be meeting the Minister of War would he have have polished them? And then Leia figured he probably did know; surely he and Luke had spoken up there in orbit. He'd cleaned his boots for the medal ceremony. Lent Luke a pair, as well as pants, a shirt and jacket.

First impressions, she said to herself. Had the first impression been made with the first landing on Yavin and then adjusted with the second? His boots were polished, his hair likely combed- it looked... flatter- and he had closed his shirt collar, all the way. Tucked the tan skin under stern, prim buttons.

Leia was willing to bet it was Luke who talked Han into tidying his appearance, since he was wearing Han's clothes. Luke had a good upbringing. It showed in the loving way he spoke of his aunt and uncle. It showed that he had bothered with an introduction during the emergency on the Death Star.

_Come on, Han,_ he would have goaded._ This is a big deal! We should look presentable. _

Red bloodstripes snaked up dark blue pants. Mon Mothma lifted her hand and arranged her face in a dignified smile by the time the thigh-length holster came into view. Leia would miss their first exchange. Unconsciously she picked up her pace, Rieekan reacting a few seconds late.

Add the black spacer's vest: Han was dressing a part again, but even without that, his figure was long and lean, actively handsome. Why that had to be part of her description rankled her, but it was a fact and no other detail of him would suffice.

Han had to shift the inventory board from one hand to his other to grasp the Minister's hand; his face, Leia thought, guarded and unreadable and suddenly less handsome.

"...me," he finished saying. His eyes slid from Mon Mothma to the journalist at her side, to General Rieekan, and finally to Leia. He winked at her.

A large part of her, trained and schooled and drilled, disapproved; the Princess in a war. But there was another part of her, small and hidden, peeking behind her shield, and her gaze was on him, alert and curious.

Mon Mothma looked like she was performing a duty. "None of us would be here if it weren't for the actions of you and Commander Skywalker. You have our gratitude."

"Sure," Han said. "Already got it, fashioned into a medal," he jerked a thumb toward the inside of the _Falcon. _"It's not worth much but I appreciate it just the same." His eyes met Leia's again.

Chewie ruined the formality of the moment by stepping forward, bumping Han's shoulder, whose scowl matched the Minister's. The Wookiee stopped before Leia and engulfed her in a squeezing Wookiee hug. He was without any pretense, Leia thought, and that was a very brave thing.

His hug reminded her of when she was a little girl, greeting her father after a time away. Leia freed her head and found Han. "Good to see you again, Captain," she smiled at him.

"You too, Princess," he drawled. "Not gonna hug you in front of all these people, though."

"I'm not going to hug you, period," she retorted.

There were various reactions around her, chuckles and a small gasp of surprise, but Leia strongly approved of Han's greeting, and she felt her own response was more than satisfactory. Han wore a low-level grin, and Leia felt a smile, a true one, was issuing from her eyes.

"Captain Solo," the general said, and proffered a hand. "General Carlist Rieekan. Good to meet you. Early, but no harm done, I suppose."

"Yes, sir. Actually," Han put the hand to the back of his neck and squinted at Rieekan; Leia had seen the same pose waiting for the diagnostic report. He was running a test. "I was bored."

"There's a reason behind every clearance, Captain. You ought to know that. We can't cater to the whim of every pilot."

"I wouldn't call it a whim," Han was casual yet serious. "More like careful observation. Home is where ships are coming and going. Not much seemed to be happenin' dirtside, and I'd been docked a while."

"If you're bored, perhaps you'll consider assisting with the shuttles. We've only got the one ship. As for now, considering what you're carrying, I won't give it a second thought," Rieekan said affably.

"It's food, sir."

"I know." Rieekan was grinning. "A full stomach wins the war," he quoted, "and I've missed those muffins so much I have half a mind to help you unload myslef. Minister?" he held his palm out.

"By all means," she said dryly, "unload. Having heard your exploits, Captain, it was worth seeing you in person. I hope the Alliance continues to benefit from your service."

She barely stayed to hear Han mumble a thank you. "General," she gestured to Rieekan, and introduced the journalist, and they fell into conversation.

Han didn't seem amused at all the way Leia was. "You been singing my praises?" he frowned down at her.

"Certainly not," Leia said coolly.

"Then what was that about?"

"It did seem laced with hidden meaning," Leia, still amused, answered.

Chewie interjected with a long comment, his head bobbing side to side.

Leia forgot how difficult Shyriiwook sounded. She looked to Han.

"He likes what you've done to your hair," he translated in a mumble.

"Oh," Leia said, surprised the official visit made no impression on the Wookiee. She put a hand to the back of her head. "Thank you, Chewie."

Chewie's comment seemed to open the door to allow Han to appraise her fully. His eyes, not quite brown but not at all the blue of Luke's, swept down and then up, taking his time, and stopped at her face. "You're lookin' official," was all he said.

"Yes, well." Leia didn't quite know how to respond. It didn't feel like a compliment. "I am."

Chewie faced Han and rumbled something, fangs flashing.

"I am not," Han growled at him. "Here, take this." He handed Chewie the inventory board. "Lower the hatch and get 'em started." The fingers, now free of their cargo, sprawled at the back of his hip as he looked at Leia. "You busy later?"

She knew why he was asking, but she liked knowing more than he did. "Why?" Leia asked.

"There's a certain moping Commander up in orbit. Guess he'll start whining."

"You didn't ask how I was busy."

Han's eyes grew bright. "I didn't," he agreed. "How are you busy?" he enunciated, tilting his torso to her.

"I am to assist in the cessation of moping," Leia pronounced formally.

"Are you, now. That an order?"

"I ordered myself."

He did grin now, but there was something- it shouldn't be there, but it was. Leia noticed it and tried to tell herself she was wrong, but it insisted. His grin was a little sad. His eyes lowered, and now he was a different kind of handsome. Interactive, rather than active, because she wanted to ask about it. Alderaan-handsome, Leia continued to herself.

"Does Luke know?" he said, his tone gruff again. He'd felt it, too, Leia realized, and he didn't like it.

"I had to rearrange my schedule," she replied smoothly. "And he's out of contact, isn't he? I'm not going to use ship-to-ship to say I'll have dinner with him."

"'Was asking out of politeness, Highness," Han said dryly.

So he was back to that. Leia soured. She fished the credit chip from her pocket. A small flimsi was attached. "Here," she said. "For the candles."

He took it from her and read the receipt. "Almost forgot about that," he said softly.

His eyes were serious. His eyes, Leia thought, should do the talking and not his mouth.

She nodded at his eyes and told his mouth, "I'm ready to leave whenever you are."

"I'll be observing Home's clearance," he snapped. "Chewie!" he hollered and made to find his partner.


	42. Adaptation

A very Han pose, Leia reflected. Vest, pants and boots blended in with the blackness of sea and sky. She caught a flash of white sleeve, just like she caught only flashes of goodness, and the red piping down the side seam of his pants tumbled over the top edge of his ship.

His legs were dangling, and he swung them once or twice, as if a thought demanded action. He was alone, and he looked relaxed, she would say, despite all the work that continued below without his help.

Chewie was working the unloading, stacking heavy-looking crates onto a repulsor cart, landing each one with a loud grunt. The sea carried the noise up to her. Numbers, Leia realized, delighted she recognized the sounds. Chewie was counting crates.

She observed all this from the window in her office, her own pose. The two panes were flung open outward, like arms greeting the submoon, and Leia's face waited behind them.

She didn't know what it meant to be the kind of alone Han was enjoying. On Alderaan, she never was, not even in her bedchamber because one maiden stayed with her. She'd had to steal moments, except for what happened in sleep. Run into the hollow spot of the hedge, while the maidens waited and clucked and told her to come out, Leia's knees drawn up, eyes wide with delight at her accomplishment.

That was when she was young. After a time, she grew too large to fit inside the hollow. And she grew used to her maidens. They were friendly and... clarifying.

She was envious of him, confused too, because... Because.

And she glared at him from her window spot, wondering why- whatever nonsense that encounter was- they had dismissed each other.

That was a frank and honest description, Leia thought. Dismissal.

Frank and honest had nothing to do with the two people conducting the dismissal, however. More like ridiculous.

Leia didn't like being confused, and she took herself- her work that is, very seriously- and Han Solo was work, because he was on the Death Star, which still held a prominent place in Leia's thoughts, so while it didn't give her great pleasure, she determined she would go and figure this out.

The window looked too eager, so she closed it.

She marched down the steps of the mountain to the entrance of the bridge rail, and in her mind her maidens followed in her shadow, their voluminous skirts flapping in the wind and their hands to their heads to hold their hair in place, and she wondered how she might have got away from them.

He had a good spot, she thought, to observe the submoon. High, away from anyone, with a commanding view of the sea and the activity on the landing pad.

It was his ship, but if told of her desire to taste a bit of that aloneness, would he leave?

Probably he wouldn't. He'd look her up and down, drawl, _you look alone to me. _

That was the problem, Leia thought. Hers was a loneliness, not the blessed peace of reflection.

She would like to tell him, still irked at the direction of their conversation, to jump into the sea. He wouldn't, but the temptation was there.

She wound her way among the repulsor carts and the unloading crew, who politely stopped what they were doing and stood off to the side while she passed. They might jump, she imagined, anything for the ghostly Princess who walked the desolate shoal.

The maidens wouldn't jump. A few would find it funny that she asked, though. Who else could she test, their fealty or fear, if she were to actually utter such a request.

_General Dodonna, I am the Princess of Alderaan. I am winning this war for you, at great cost to myself, I need not remind you. I wish to sit here, by myself, for an undetermined length of time. Please go._

Or-

_Soldiers. Pilots. However many of you here wish to exemplify the completeness of your convictions to the embodiment of this Princess as your Cause, I should like to see you leap from this ship into the sea. _

_Except you, Commander Skywalker._ Leia smiled to herself. _You have already demonstrated your unwavering devotion. And I do not wish to see you drown._

She'd never used the lift tube inside the _Falcon _but she knew where it was. It rode quietly, in a quick hiss. She barely had time to cross her arms and feel nervous for the tight space when the door opened and she was topside.

Han's face turned halfway over his shoulder. He'd heard her.

She sat down beside him, and realized he was hiding surprise that she had sought him out, and gave herself a point.

"Princess," he greeted in a low voice, face directed towards the sea.

Not unwavering devotion, but is that what she wanted? The maidens, always in her shadow, Carlist Rieekan asking to be placed there, Luke watching her holomessage...

Leia adjusted her body on the metal surface, feeling the hard edge at the back of her kneecap while below her feet hung. She tested a suitable response. _Captain _and they might lapse into companionable, unresolved silence. She didn't care for the tone of argument that qualified their last exchange. Nor would she allow herself to be vulnerable, so vetoed the use of his name. It had to be friendly somehow, but he was prickly. Even though he thought _she _was the prickly one-

Sometimes language was not communication, she thought. Sometimes it ruined a lot of things.

"Are you resting?" she asked.

"Me?" Han let a little more surprise show. And then he smiled. "Resting?" he repeated, as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"I could wonder if you were thinking," she said slyly.

"Oh, yeah. Shudder the thought." His tone was ironic.

Thinking didn't work for Han Solo like it did most others, Leia thought with a private smile. He would say it caused problems when it was supposed to solve them. Well, it was lucky for her and Luke he thought about the Death Star's approach to Yavin and turned around, probably muttering curses all the while.

"Why are you letting Chewie do all the work?" she asked.

"My work," he said, spreading his hands over his lap. "is done. I deliver. _They_ unload. I wait. Chewie just don't want to grow flabby."

"Flabby?" Leia actually laughed. "He worries about his physical conditioning?"

"Well, yeah. Wookiees are active."

"I see," Leia said. She let it drop; recalling from nowhere her music lessons. She had the tendency to rush the tempo and play over the rests. Her instructor had told her, "silence is music, too."

"A droid took the candles up, if that's what you're looking for," Han mentioned after a while.

He sounded neutral about it, and she was the one who made him detour all the way to Dantooine for them, so his attention to them was probably correct.

"Thank you. General Rieekan was going to distribute them. We're-" she fluttered a hand, her heart doing that familiar fail again, "It's-"

Han finished for her with a nod. "Sure it is."

Leia nodded back. "Yes." She tried kicking a leg over the edge and changed the subject. "How's the ship?"

Han's brows went up. "The ship?"

"Luke said she's taken on a few more dents."

"He said that, did he?" Han was scowling. "Nothing I can't handle."

That was a jump she hadn't expected. "That's not what I asked," Leia said.

"The ship is fine," he answered tersely.

They were edging closer to argument, but this time Leia was willing to experiment a bit. She assumed a rational pose, and held her hands together in her lap. "So the _Falcon _only looks worse," she concluded, tilting her head to the side.

He made a face at her. He didn't think it funny but at least he wasn't angry. "She handles as good as ever."

"Hmm." Leia somehow doubted that. "And how does her captain handle?"

He snorted lightly, and lifted his eyelids to take in more of the horizon, and decided her question was wordplay, and smiled. He finally looked at her, eyes changing from gray to green. "As good as ever," he pronounced.

Leia flicked her eyes to the corner where ship and sky met, where her maidens would be watching if she still had them. It would be almost comical now if they were alive. The lift tube would have to make several trips to fit them all up here.

And they would be scandalized. She and Han seemed to shift gears rapidly; she was keeping up, from animosity to humor, and now this, whatever it was. She didn't think she possessed it.

Leia grew frustrated at herself, at the uselessness of their conversation; it was more like... deception. For some reason a pretty frosted cake rose in her mind. Gods, what was wrong with her? Music lessons and cake and maidens that didn't exist. Memories and sensations just floated up, without connection. But talking with Han... if she took their conversation back to her office and went through it, word for word, she would have nothing.

That wouldn't do. He was not empty, not if he was here, and she would not tolerate him pretending to her that he was. The cake, she remembered, was on a dessert table at a ball. It rested on a stemmed crystal platter, higher than the other selections, and Leia, the same Leia that could fit through the hollow of the hedge, had sneaked to the back of the table and slid one of the frosted flowers onto a serving knife and eaten it.

_I miss your ship, _is what she wanted to say. And even that wasn't the whole truth. _I miss when I spent nine days on your ship._

He was so different than Luke. With Luke, she could use language; she could say, _I miss you. _But she wouldn't dare say to Luke, _I miss Han. _Why was that?

"I came to tell you how much it means to see you working for the Alliance," she said.

"Can't work for the Hutts," he growled. Apparently this was his version of what comprised empty speech, and Leia detected a note of resentment.

"I suppose not." Leia thought about her next question. "Has your life changed much," she ventured, "since?"

"You mean the bounty?" he squinted at her. She didn't; of course she meant the Death Star and she had a feeling he knew that, but she gave it a pass. He shrugged, and his gaze went back to the sea. "The Hutts were a sure thing."

"Has it been hard to get work?"

"Trouble is contagious. The Hutts Curse. That's what they- not Hutts, everyone else- call it. Once you're marked, no one wants to touch you."

"That's why you took on the job for General Kenobi." She nodded to herself. It made sense. "You were approaching destitute."

"Destitute," he repeated dryly, and grimaced with his lips. "I'm not destitute. Hells, I'll never be destitute."

She nodded her approval. "That's good."

"You?" He had turned back to her.

"No. If I'm not now, then I suppose I'll never be."

"Yeah," he said. He sounded regretful.

Leia hesitated only a moment. "But of course my life has changed," she added.

Han kicked a leg. He grew uncomfortable, she saw, as everyone she spoke with did. Everyone except Carlist Rieekan, because any Alderaani created that effect. "I know _that,_" he said.

Leia persisted. It was hard; Alderaan had the effect of sinking a conversation like lead. She could feel herself dragging, but if she kept saying it, maybe someday someone would stay afloat. "I don't mean the obvious. I mean things you don't think about."

"Like what?"

"Like," suddenly Leia didn't want to talk about the maidens, or cake, or music, and she was sorry she had brought it up. To her, Alderaan wasn't just a heavy, weighted topic: it was suck sand. "I don't know." She fluttered her legs a few times. "Swinging one's legs." She spoke off the cuff, just to say something.

"Alderaani swing their legs differently?" Han said innocently.

It made her smile, and she demonstrated for him. "No, in that regard we do it the same as other humans."

Han answered with a swing of his own. His legs were long, Leia realized; practically half her own height.

"Yup," Han confirmed. "Looks the same as how Corellians do it. But- " he showed her his palm, asking her to continue.

Memories, she wanted to say. "Did you have a swing when you were a kid?"

Han shook his head.

"Or a park, where you could go and swing?"

"Uh, no."

"There was a huge shade tree," Leia reminesced, "off by itself. A gift from Chandrila, more than a hundred years ago. Someone put up a rope swing. I don't think it was for me; maybe when my mother was a girl."

"Yeah," Han prompted.

"It had gown so tall, too tall to climb. But I would kick my feet, and swing really high, and imagine flying off to land in the high branches, where I could finally climb."

"Sounds fun."

"And it was a favorite spot," Leia said. "There was no room for the maidens on the seat-"

"Maidens?"

"- and they had to stand out of range and just watch."

"A good memory, huh."

"But, you see, the act of swinging now can't be done without thinking of swinging then. And not just swinging, but the swing, and the tree. The loss isn't a planet; it's all the little things on it you met."

Han was nodding, lips pursed. "Still, there's being's who can't remember nice like that."

She hadn't gotten through. "I'm not talking about my childhood; I'm talking about the tree."

"Right, I hear you." But he didn't _see: _she'd managed to convey the tree but not its loss.

Anyway, she was done. Sunken. Now she had to claw her way up. It would be helpful if he were there to offer a hand, and that's why she had taken a seat beside him. "Do you think it would be different if I hadn't had a good childhood?"

"Oh, then you'd be really fucked up," Han said, and gave a serious laugh. "Wonderin' if it's twisted, feeling bad about the place that made you so unhappy."

His coarse language was unpleasant for a moment, and then she realized it was because no one spoke to her like that. Sometimes, for him language was a place he could hide under; at least with her it was unfiltered.

She didn't want to talk anymore, but their silence wasn't as companionable.

Leia finally stood. "I suppose I should try and get some work done. I wanted," she stopped as he twisted to peer up at her from his sitting position, lips parted and interested. She decided admitting what she wanted was not the way to handle Han Solo.

"The Hutts Curse hasn't reached the Alliance," she told him.

"Not yet," Han said darkly, "but I gotta do something."

Leia expected that one, and gave herself another point. There was something of her he didn't possess, and it was regality. "For yourself, or the galaxy?" she posed to him, and turned for the lift tube before he could answer. The maidens, stuck topside, would have ruined the moment, and as she made the quick trip down couldn't decide how to feel about that.

Chewie straightened over a crate and yowled a question at her.

"I'll be back for liftoff," she called over her shoulder to him.


	43. Adaptation, II

_Home _wasn't exactly inviting. Leia peered over Han's shoulder through the viewport of the _Falcon. _The vessel was more structure than ship, essentially a long tube, and the odd number of ships attached underneath the hull reminded Leia oddly of parasites. Chewie chatted at length about it and tapped Han's elbow to make him translate.

"Engines fore and aft," Han said tiredly. "There's a bridge- of course there's a bridge, Chewie, what do you- never mind. Twenty-four docking slots."

"That's a lot, isn't it?" Leia said. It seemed like a lot. Just how many pilots had a need to dock in the middle of space when a place to land was often a star's throw away?

Han shrugged one shoulder. "It's a good-sized one."

"And that's its only service? Docking?"

"You're thinking of those fueling stations, mobile ports. It's a vehicle. Probably a bunch of 'em when the Death Star was being built. They hold the ships that brought the crew: droids, orrrr-" Han elongated the last word, and his head shook quickly twice, "- whatever."

He wasn't at a loss for a word, Leia knew. He had shut himself up.

Chewie added a comment.

"I know," Han said. "I was tryin' not to-"

"What did he say?"

"He said docking vessels is where they hold slave auctions."

Leia gasped. She had not known that; or maybe she had, and hadn't liked to think of it. She did know the Empire treated most of its subjects as objects.

Resource Mining was an Imperial initiative. A resource might be a valuable mineral or gas on a planet, but it was also the life forms. Beings were mined for their contributions to Imperial society. Leia had attended a symphony made up of mined, musical Atenaaks; yellow, multi-digited reptiles with a strip of blue, swaying scales running down the spine. There was nothing the Senate could do about the Mined, but Leia had vague knowledge worlds were plundered by capitalist ventures outside the scope of the Empire, and now with Chewie's simple statement her mind was opened. She'd heard the term bandied about- _Collected from the Wild. _This was an active, illegal slave trade, and there was no consideration for a being's needs or abilities. Slaves were taken for labor, domestic service, and gods knew what else.

The uselessness of the Senate and the utter disregard for life made Leia angry and delayed her response. She wanted also to take in Chewie's statement of unemotional fact, Han's "I know"; their... _experience, _but Han kept on talking.

"Pretty common sight in Corellia's orbit, too," he was saying. Chewie nodded, seconding the statement.

"Which- slaves, or docking vessels," Leia's voice dripped irony. She didn't understand how either could be casual.

"Both, actually," Han said. He stole a quick glance at her over his shoulder. "Fact of life, Princess. The bulk of industry is done in orbit."

She didn't appreciate he was telling her he knew more than she did. Of course he was older. But the real difference was in how they obtained their education, and she was very curious about him. "Did you live in orbit?"

"No." He was saved from more questioning by a hail from the bridge of _Home, _asking Han to transmit the _Falcon's_ ID. Pilot and copilot focused on bringing their ship in. Leia regarded them thoughtfully, thinking of their differences. She had been trained to understand how actions of the past affected a future. She planned, analyzed, discussed. Han and Chewie approached life... like it was a landing. Opportunity awaited. If it was a good idea, stay; if not, move on to the next.

They were still here, wherever that was. Not a place, but an idea. A war. Or a farm boy and a Princess. Leia couldn't stop the twitch of a smile in the corner of her mouth. She let them be, taking in their essence, and she could almost make herself believe Han beckoned _Home _to her rather than the other way around.

The docking vessel loomed larger. The _Falcon's _path veered aft and _Home _became three-dimensional, painted white with black lettering. The _Falcon _soared with a slow elegance that only space could achieve. The vessel wasn't at full occupancy; there were still empty slots, but Leia recognized the red CTC craft, and the logo of a media network on another. Two X-Wings buzzed by.

"I like watching landings," she mused. "I didn't use to as a passenger."

"Technically, this is a docking," Han said, and he moved a little. Leia thought of her friend's pet purpine, how it fluffed in pleasure when touched.

She spotted the row of four X-wings, and wondered which one was the _Homestead._

"Did he tell you he named it?" she asked Han of Luke. There were no distinguishing marks on the ships.

Han laughed. "Yeah. Fools asked me to pick up some paint for them before they asked Dodonna. I got a few cans if you wanna paint something. That's his," Han indicated the third one with a toss of his chin.

Leia fell silent as Han continued communicating with the bridge of _Home_ and slipped the freighter into a docking slot. The hatch was accessible from topside. Leia insisted on riding the lift tube alone.

"What," Han complained. "We'll fit."

"It's not that."

"I brushed my teeth," he continued to protest.

She smiled a little, but she didn't like that lift tube. "Why are you pressing, Captain? Are you afraid to be alone?"

He marched into the tube and entered it, glaring at her. As the door closed and it started its quick descent- not a great height to transcourse, she heard his voice, "Why are _you-_" and then it was cut off.

Inside, _Home_ was a bit dismaying; litter dotted the interior. Carelessly dropped flight suits, blankets, and empty ration bar wrappers made it look shabby. Not at all hospitable, Leia thought as she cast a critical eye around. In fact, this fit her idea of a refugee camp more then Buteral ever could. Han strode with surety to a blanket on the floor along the wall end of the docking vessel and gave it a kick.

"Time to get up, junior," he said.

"That's," Leia stuttered, "Luke? What's he doing?"

"He's on break," Han said, not alarmed at all by the sight of their friend's lumpy form under a blanket on the floor.

If it was Luke; Leia had no clue. She saw the soles of boots, but every other part of Luke was hidden under the blanket.

"Luke," Han kicked again and spoke louder. "Get up!"

The blanket shifted, and the disheveled, sleepy head of Luke was blinking at Han. "Han?" he said sleepily. "You're back? You bring Leia?"

"What's he doing on the floor?" Leia demanded.

"I told you," Han said patiently, "he's on break. That blanket over there," he tossed his head again, "is Antilles, his wing man."

"Oh, hi, Leia." Luke combed his hair with his fingers.

"How can you rest on the floor?"

"You don't like the amenities, Highness?" Han said sarcastically. "Got a problem with sitting on the floor for a couple of hours? You both can come to the _Falcon."_

"I can sleep about anywhere," Luke was grinning up at Leia, now cross-legged and very awake. "But we have to leave the Wings when we're not piloting. Captain Trillo's pretty nice about doing what he can for us patrol fighters. We're only here one more night anyway."

"He'll be glad to be rid of you," Han said.

"He could put out cots," Leia suggested angrily. She could've waited in the _Falcon _with Chewie and let Han fetch Luke on his own and now she was going to have to step through that hatchway again.

"No, but he showed a holofilm on the bridge for us," Luke said.

Han pulled Luke to his feet. "This is a docking vessel," he reminded Leia. "He ain't got cots. It's for ships coming and going, not beings."

"It's inconsiderate," Leia decided.

"Thanks for your outrage," Luke smiled at her. "You'll have to take it up with our superiors. But we're good. Han let the four of us nap on the _Falcon _last break."

"That's my blanket, too," Han growled.

"Oh, right." Luke stooped to bundle it up. "I told Wedge he wasn't invited tonight," he and Han took off walking shoulder to shoulder, "but he wants some of of that compote."

Han waved a hand. "If there's any left."

Leia arched a brow at their backs. "Compote?" She looked at Han. Docked- was it a day?- and already a sort of socializing among the various pilots was taking place. "You have food?"

He looked almost embarrassed as he stopped to open the hatch leading to the _Falcon. _"Never smuggled groceries before," he told her.

"Buteral is public knowledge," she corrected him. "It wasn't a smuggling operation." With that last word she stepped quickly into the lift tube and palmed the door controls shut before Han could say anything about arrangement of passengers.

But she waited politely for Luke and Han at the bottom. The two descended together, an amusing and tight fit, bodies squeezed close.

"Anyway," Luke emerged, still talking about compote, "Han tried to make pie."

Leia had already forgotten the food. "What?"

"Got a good deal on overstock," Han explained. "Couple crates of fruit gettin' close to inedible."

"It's not pie," Luke said. "But it's not bad. Wedge looked it up. It's called compote."

"Apparently, you need flour to make a pie crust," Han said. "And I didn't have any."

"It's more buttery than sweet," Luke said. "Hey, Chewie," he greeted, and got a head ruffling. "But soak it up with that bread and it's good."

"The bread was overstock too. A few rolls were starting to mildew." Han smiled and spread his arms. "That's dinner!"

Leia made a face. "The opportunist's menu."

"It's fine, Leia," Luke assured her. "None of us got sick or anything."

"This keeps sounding better and better," she said dryly.

Chewie hooted with laughter. The four stood together in the wide area of the _Falcon's _circular corridor. Leia expected Han to ruin the moment, say something about peasants or the palate of a princess, and she was pleased to see she was wrong. Either it hadn't occurred to him, or he bit his tongue. Maybe he was actually enjoying himself.

They ate rehy stew from dispo bowls on the dejarik table, Han and Chewie on the ends of the half-moon bench with Luke and Leia on the inside. Both men ate quickly, as if the food might disappear. The life of a pilot, Leia assumed.

She was still spooning the compote- which was tasty, she had to admit- when Luke slid downward, a hand on his belly. "No compote for Wedge," he sighed, sated. "I've got... almost two hours." His eyes left his chrono. "Can I have a kaf, Han? Time enough to piss it out, but still have it keep me awake."

Luke now had the mouth of a pilot, though he still looked so young. Tired, too. "I'm sorry, Luke. I should have let you rest longer."

"What, and go another month without seeing you? No. Patrol here is turning out to be flying in circles." He patted his belly again. "I know how to prioritize."

Han stood with a snort of a laugh. "Kaf, Princess?" He bent Leia's empty bowl to break the coating on the dispo bowl, allowing it now to be easily dissolved in water. Luke helped out by folding the edges of his own bowl back. Leia heard the seal crack.

"Yes, thanks."

Chewie pressed a button and the holochess game activated. He said something to Luke.

"Oh, I don't know, Chewie," Luke said. "Your game with Wedge went so long. I don't think I have the time."

"Do you understand Shyriiwook now?" Leia asked Luke. The holographic images of the play creatures flexed and strutted before them.

"No, it's just obvious, isn't? Like with R2; I'm getting him most of the time."

"The beeps and whistles?" Leia was impressed.

"I don't think I really focus on that. Or on the sounds Chewie makes either. I hear the- the situation, the context."

"Interesting," Leia said. When she had guessed previously at something Chewie said, the possibilities had no relation at all. "Chewie taught me how to count a bit, but he repeated sounds over and over."

"Oh, you're learning? Huh, no, I guess what I'm doing is communicating a moment rather than speaking a language. I just... kind of let it wash over me, and make a guess."

"I wonder..." Leia steepled two fingers under her chin, "do you think your Force sensitivity has anything to do with it?"

"Oh, that'd be nice," Luke said with a bitter laugh. "Since I haven't done much else with it."

Chewie had selected four players. He tilted his body away from the table and yelled toward the galley.

"Sure," Han responded, his voice faint. "I'll go with the grimtaash, in honor of the Princess."

Chewie asked Han another question. Leia looked at the moment: Chewie had four pieces, Han one."Name three other players?" Leia guessed quietly to Luke

"That's what I'd answer to," he murmured back.

"Two, one," Leia said in her best representation of Shyriiwook.

The Wookie's lips peeled back in appreciation and he said a lot.

"I don't care; just pick 'em," Han called out.

"He's explaining the set up, I think," Luke said. "What did you say just now?"

"One of the numbers," Leia answered. "Three."

"Chewie's gonna play the houjix, watch," Luke murmured again.

Sure enough, Chewie sent the houjix out on the board.

"Does it all the time," Luke said.

Chewie yelled something to Han, who appeared shortly carrying the kaf. He set the dispo cups down and sucked kaf off his knuckle "Like I didn't know you were going to position the houjix. Ng'ok, ring one."

"The real houjix is actually timid, isn't it?" Lei asked. Chewie and Han had arranged their four players.

Han nodded, watching the holos take their positions. One swung a staff. "Mined as pets."

"Strange. The galaxy has so many fierce and dangerous creatures," Leia said. "You'd think they'd use one that was truly a fighter, like a rancor."

"That one can't be real," Luke said, pointing to the ng'ok. "How can it hold those hands up? If those are hands. They're like giant, toothed baskets."

Leia chuckled. The ng'ok was battling the houjix.

"They sift through watery mud, I think," Han explained. "Catch fish."

"I had a set when I was a kid," Luke said. "Not holographic. The fighters were this big," he indicated by holding his index finger and thumb apart, "and they didn't move. I lost most of them after a while. I know I buried a couple in the sand."

Leia wondered if Luke knew how sweetly funny he was.

"I haven't seen most of these myself," Luke said. "Are they all real?"

"This one's not," Leia pointed to the grimtaash.

"I thought it was," Han said.

She shook her head. "No. Just a story."

"What's the story?" Luke asked.

"It's Alderaani, actually," Leia looked at Han, because he chose it. "It could tell a traitor to the throne, and blinded them."

"There was a need for that?" Han said sarcastically.

"Corellia's kings and queens fell like leaves in fall," Leia shot back.

"True," Han admitted. "A few of those could have used the grimtaash. Like the Five Hour Queen. In the game, it's got good health points. I need something to go against Chewie's houjix."

"Do you both play the same opening gambit all the time?" Leia wondered. Holochess didn't appeal to her very much, especially if it was so predictable.

Han smiled. "Chewie's a traditionalist. We change it up soon as we send second fighters in."

Chewie whuffed a question at Han.

"Sure, now's as good a time as any." He sent his Mantellian savrip in while Chewie chose the strider.

"You been everywhere these are, Han?" Luke asked, indicating each holoplayer with a sweep of his forefinger. "I keep remembering that speech you gave me, about seeing all ends of the galaxy."

"Sounds about right," Han answered Luke while he shot Leia a dirty look, who had rolled her eyes at Luke's mention of a speech. "Most, anyway. Everywhere has its contraband."

"Hmm," Luke cocked his head. "That sounds like... wisdom. Smuggling's made a philosopher out of you." Chewie had something to add to that, and Luke laughed, noting the mock insult that crossed Han's face. "Don't worry, I won't ask you what he said. Think I caught the gist."

Leia's eyes roved one at a time to the three beings who surrounded her. She felt like she ought to comment, but didn't know in what way. They were men plus a Wookiee, they were pilots, they were... what, friends? She didn't feel left out, however; on the contrary she felt cocooned, cultivated almost, in the middle of all of them.

Who had brought them together? General Kenobi, she decided. Her took her message, he took Luke away, he brought Han along. She got a chill all of a sudden. To hear Luke tell it, it _sounded _random.

She went back to the board. "This one almost went extinct, the Mantellian," Leia said, pointing to Han's player that hoisted the strider over is head.

"How?" Luke asked.

"How else," Han said. "Empire. They fought back. All these others are mined- as pets, or guards, or fighters. Not many places that haven't seen the Empire take something."

"Tatooine," Luke said. "Outer Rim. Where the bantha roam free."

"Is that a travel ad?" Han laughed. "The reason they're not there is Jabba the Hutt."

"Yeah, I guess," Luke said. "Jabba the Hutt lets the bantha roam, but he'll enslave anyone who's useful to him, like the Empire does."

"Is there a lot of slavery on Tatooine?" Leia asked with interest. The Outer Rim territories were mostly ignored by the Empire, but that meant by the Senate as well.

Luke nodded from over his dispo cup. "It's- I hate to say it- kind of accepted. There's beings that don't like it- my uncle wouldn't own any- but nobody did much about it. If you go into Mos Eisley, you see a lot, owned by, well, lots. Not just Jabba the Hutt."

Leia sat back, sliding her dispo cup towards her. She noted to herself- and found it interesting- to hear Luke describe the routine of slavery while Han criticized it. She'd have bet on the opposite.

There was one other player at the table. "You're quiet, Chewie," Leia observed to the Wookiee, touching his arm. The ng'ok was out; its holoimage lay lifeless on the board. Leia shivered again, thinking of Luke under the blanket.

"We're taking the fun out of the game for him," Han said. "Kasshyyyk was hit bad." _Ah_, Leia answered herself. Maybe that was why. Han opposed slavery through his partner.

Chewie sent the houjix after the savrip. Then he spoke in a voice quiet for a Wookiee.

"What'd he say, Han?" Luke asked.

"I heard it," Leia said. "A number. Six?"

Han cleared his throat. "You missed the again. Twelve. Chewie spent twelve years as a slave."

"How'd you get out?" Luke asked. "Supposedly, my grandmother was a slave." He glanced around the table. "My uncle liked to tell me- it's a nice story, actually. This customer at the shop she slaved in fell in love with her, and he arranged with the owner to buy her, and he immediately freed her and married her."

"That is a nice story," Leia agreed. She was watching Chewie, who seemed to listen raptly. "Your grandfather must have been a special man to see the person under the label."

"Yeah. He was my uncle's father. But she's my father's mother."

"Was your father a slave, too?" Leia wondered.

"I don't know," Luke said, mystery clouding his eyes. "Probably not. But maybe. I don't know. He didn't come to live on the farm. Maybe he'd already left the planet. My uncle only met him once. I didn't know her. I knew my grandfather some; he died when I was a kid, but I never knew her. Wish I did."

"Mm," Leia agreed.

Chewie said something to Han, and they both laughed.

"What," Luke wanted to know.

"Chewie's not so sure he would want to marry the one that got him out."

"It was you, wasn't it," Leia said to Han. It wasn't a guess; there was no other truth.

Han lifted his eyes to her a long while, and when he nodded they dropped back to the dejarik table. "I was twenty-one. In the Navy."

Chewie woofed, humor back in his eyes.

"And not 'cause I fell in love with him," Han said, wagging a finger at Chewie.

"Did you ever smuggle slaves? Is that how it happened?" Luke asked.

"I don't smuggle slaves," Han said. "The one line I draw."

"Did you buy him out and then free him? Like my grandfather?"

"No, it... it wasn't so peaceful." Han shut the game down, agitated. Chewie yowled a protest. "I'm still dealin' with shit from it."

"Like what?" Luke asked. His tone had grown serious. And caring, Leia thought. "You did a good thing."

Han looked at his chrono. "Take too long to tell it, kid," but they could tell he was lying. "Upshot is, I got a life debt, blacklisted, and a smuggling career, maybe in that order."

Chewie reached out to ruffle Han's hair, who dodged out of the way.

"Would it help if I said something?" Luke said.

Han snorted. "Probably not. Who'd listen to you?" he scoffed.

"To you. You... I mean, to, to care like that-"

"Caring is overrated."

Luke smiled. "Right. I forgot."

"And don't go saying anything. Chewie don't like it when beings know his past."

Leia glanced at Chewie, who was not upset at all. The Wookiee's blue eyes were steady on Han, amused.

"He doesn't mind us knowing,"Leia observed. "How old are you, Chewie? If you don't mind me asking." She knew that a Wookiee could live for centuries, and she hoped that the period he spent as a slave was a mere blip to what else his life held in store for him.

Chewie held up his fingers and made a noise.

"Ten," Leia understood.

"That can't be right," Luke said.

Chewie shook his head and banged on the table many times.

"I lost count," Luke said.

Leia laughed at Luke and looked at Han. "Should I be multiplying?"

Han's head was in his hands. "You two drive me crazy. I'm going to get a drink, and I'm going to watch the moonrise." He left the table.

Luke and Leia were coming to the conclusion that Chewie was two hundred and thirty-seven years old when Han strolled back with a bottle of deep amber liquid.

Chewie growled a warning.

"I'm not gonna spill, asshole," Han retorted and they heard the cockpit slide shut.

"Don't worry," Luke leaned into Leia, speaking quietly. "I've seen enough of him the past two days that I can get away with it. I think that's my job, to piss him off. I seem to do it a bit."

"You know, you may be right. Down on Buteral, he got a bit thorny twice, and both times it was when I mentioned you."

Luke smiled. "See."

Leia smiled back. "He might resent you."

"He might be looking in an old, cracked and tarnished mirror."

Leia nodded, her brows up in surprised agreement. "You're perceptive, Luke," she told him.

He was modest, too. "The thing is, he's the one who freed a slave. I never did, so who's the goody two boots?"

Leia considered. "Even knowing what I know, I would never call him a goody two boots. You, yes."

Luke smiled. "Chewie says I should keep on pissing him off."

Chewie whuffed a definite bark of approval.

"So we're supposed to let him sulk?" Leia asked. Their heads were leaning into each other but they weren't quite whispering, and she wondered if Han could hear them.

"Nah, he's not sulking. He's thinking. Right, Chewie?" Luke tapped a finger to his temple, and the Wookiee answered with the same gesture. Luke smiled. "It's good for him. We'll see what he comes up with. But when I leave in a few you can pour that whiskey on his head if you want."

"I can do that," Leia said with a smile.

"Han's a good guy," Luke said firmly. He sat up straight.

"You don't have to tell me," Leia answered. It was nice to hear it.

"But he's also a jerk," Luke added.

Leia and Chewie laughed.

* * *

"Hey, Han," Luke called out later. "I'm leaving."

The cockpit door panel unlatched and Han leaned against the threshold.

Luke moved to him. "See you, asshole," and he gave Han a hug.

Han patted Luke's back, the cause of his agitation forgiven. "Clear skies, prick."

Leia watched them, envious at the ease of their friendship, the lightness of it. Hers was heavy. Costly. The last time they had all been together she felt rent to pieces when they parted. She was better now, whether it was sanity or health or just the passage of time but goodbyes still made her nervous.

Luke chuckled. "Where you headed next?"

"Not sure yet. Might talk to the general."

Leia perked up her ears.

"Alright. Don't go to the Hutt, yet," Luke ordered.

Han raised one brow. "I'm waiting for your permission?"

"If you know what's good for you. I'm a commander." Luke came to Leia with a knowing smile. "Bye, Leia. Hopefully I'll see you soon."

She squeezed him in a hug. "Keep flying in circles. I worry about you."

"You have my permission," he grinned at her, and went to take the lift back up to the hatchway.

And then Luke was gone. She, Han and Chewie were standing there, suddenly off balance. Leia wanted to call him back. Maybe it was the casual utterance of worry, Luke saying she should and could; it was something she didn't know occupied her but once said it flared to life, like a flame. Her mood shiift surprised even her. From cozy to warning _don't! _

Luke had laughed her off. It was just like with Han and her tree. Luke just didn't get it. _I worry about you, _beat in her pulse. It was more frightening somehow that he could die rather than he would.

The three of them together- their bond linked them, made them strong. And she felt- she wasn't sure- it might be ego or fear, but- three links on a chain, they were equally strong. Separated, and-

Chewie said something.

Leia half-turned. She was standing at the hatch, without knowing she had followed Luke.

Han's eyes were watching her. They looked troubled and amber, reflecting the properties of the whiskey. "Chewie said," he spoke slowly, as if to keep her from making a sudden move, "it's just you and him now." He paused. "It was a joke."

"Yes." Leia forced a smile and showed it to Chewie. "Funny."

Han thought he rescued Chewie. He probably thought he rescued Leia. But that wasn't how she saw it. And maybe Chewie didn't, either. She had shot the wall. Han was a reminder how she needed to be more self-reliant, more self-sufficient. All of him: his defensiveness, humor, inscrutability; the fact that he could die, and she might be there to see it.

Like watching from the bridge...

She wasn't going to do that again. "I have an idea," she collected herself fully. "Let's set up that training remote. It's been a while, so I might be rusty. We can have a contest, but you have to give me a decent handicap."

He couldn't resist a bet, she knew that much. He followed her to the lounge.


	44. Emergence

Thinking is what Luke said Han was doing. Well, if he'd done anymore since isolating himself to watch the moonrise, there was no indication. Leia supposed her own thought process must take longer.

She was feeling better. Moving gave her control and she relished the activity. Han had watched her shoot the remote target from across the space of the _Falcon's _lounge, rear resting on the edge of the engineering station. His arms were folded not in the watchful manner of a teacher but as a relaxed member of an audience. At her request, he set up the training target for a mobile level, and she was inordinately pleased with her progress. Of course, she hadn't a blast shield over her head like Luke had, but she could hit something that moved- it was just a matter of watching it, learning it; the remote had what Han called 'giveaways', and she had clued into the pattern and noise of the triggering function.

Her gloating look had not gotten the response she expected. Maybe he was thinking.

"This ain't real life," he said.

She scowled at him. "You make a pretty big target yourself," she snapped.

Of course he liked that, and hours of wondering what made him smile would not be long enough to tell Leia why. It hadn't even made sense!

"You enter a room," Han said, like the beginning of a story. "Your eyes have to adjust to the light, your ears are reacting to the abrupt shift in noise. You're on your feet; you can move fast. That's the only thing going for you."

Leia stared at him. Admittedly, she was still wondering why he had smiled, and now she was tallying the number of words he spoke because it seemed like more than usual; the timbre of his voice was soothing and alluring while he built suspense with his description.

"You're Princess Leia," he added detail to his story, "and there's an assassin after you."

Leia waited with baited breath. Obviously, in his story she was going to be shot at.

"Bam. You're dead," he shrugged and spread his palms like it was an unfortunate accident.

Her eyes were aggressive. "No, I'm not. I am aware. I see him, I hear him-"

"Yeah, and he moves nice and slow and waits for you to learn his pattern before he fires."

"- and I shoot him, plain and simple."

"He's already shot you! Probably five times!"

Leia drummed her fingers on her thigh. She felt cheated. "I suppose, superior smuggler that you are, you are prepared for assassins."

"Hells, I'm just a smuggler. Princesses are big game."

"Smugglers have bounty hunters."

He bowed his head in gracious acceptance of her comment. "The last one I met had the decency to talk to me first before I shot him."

She huffed, wondering if there was any truth to the story, then waved at the space between her and the targeting remote. "Is there an assassin setting to this thing?"

He liked that too. "Where's your blaster when you enter that room?"

"Holstered," she answered, shaking her head rapidly because it was obvious. "I'll get shot right away if I walk in and it's pointing to the room at large."

"Right." For some reason, the image seemed to amuse him. "It's all in the draw."

"Show me," she said.

He nodded and slid off the edge of the station to reset the controls. "It's on high speed, random pattern, and a second delay after it makes its target, which is the gun. Try it like this-" He took the training gun from her and left the lounge. The remote was zipping around crazily.

Han re-entered, the training gun tucked into the top of his pants. The remote had darted under the game table when it fired. Han rolled to the floor on his shoulder and the beam missed him, but not by much. He came out of his roll on one leg, in position to spring to his feet, and the training gun was in his hand. She didn't see him pull it out. The remote zipped from its spot, darting like a hopper out from the hedge Leia used to hide in, this way and that, but Han hit it before it tried again.

It was a nice display, Leia had to admit. Damned if she was going to do so aloud, however. "Should I applaud?" she said dryly.

There was no aggravating him when he knew he was good. "Sometimes you're not going to be able to fire." He glanced under the table from where the remote had fired. "Angle's wrong. Or, there's innocents in the way."

"Smugglers aren't innocent," she said. It was another nonsensical thing to say but he had her on the defensive.

"Assassins often have a leg up," Han ignored her comment. "Part of bein' a good shot is knowing how to get shot _at._"

She nodded. "And not get hit."

Han nodded back at her. "That's the idea."

"There are simulators, aren't there?"

"Yeah. They're actually kind of fun."

"Fun," she said bitterly. "We're at war." She sighed at length. "I'm thirsty."

Frank statements of physical condition also made him smile. "Whiskey or water?"

"Water. Then whiskey."

She downed the water quickly. The physical exertion made her feel... engaged with her own body. Tired, but in a powerful, useful way. She watched as Han poured a few fingers of whiskey in her cup. She lifted it to him, meeting his eyes. "To the Death Star," she toasted.

The cup was automatically at his lips, but he paused. "You're sure?" he said.

Leia stopped her own drink and listened to herself. Perhaps- was it inappropriate? She gave him the same answer she had told Dr. Renzatl. "The Death Star is the reason for everything now."

He didn't smile. "I guess it is."

"You meant to free Chewie," she took a small sip, "didn't you. I don't believe you can have regrets about that."

Han's eyes strayed away from her and she heard him exhale into his cup. "Overall, no. Parts, yeah. Hard to describe."

"I understand," Leia said. "Like me and the plans. You had to do it, even if it killed you, because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't."

"The difference between you and me is I came out of it with Chewie." He just said it, as a fact. He didn't apologize and he wasn't afraid to hurt her.

"And I..." she didn't want to say it, but she nodded. It did hurt. But so did not saying it. "Maybe someday I can say I came out of it with something."

Leia wondered what that could be. Victory? Not that, not exactly. Victory would rid the galaxy of the Empire but it couldn't bring Alderaan back. There wasn't anything else she could think of.

"Do you regret anything about us taking you off the Death Star?"

He had phrased that interestingly. She liked it, and she showed her appreciation. "Parts, yes. Overall, no."

"I know," Han said. "Hard to describe."

"Yes." Maybe the whiskey was emboldening. Leia was noticing things like he had long fingers, and his lower lip was fuller than the top, and the proper color of his eyes was hazel.

"You don't strike me as a whiskey drinker," he said, amused again.

"I'm not." She raised the cup again and let the alcohol enter her mouth. She was more familiar with wine. That taste was smooth and effortless. Whiskey is how Han Solo would taste, she decided. Strong, and ever-changing, from the pretty golden color to the bitter bite at the end that took her breath.

He nodded and watched her swallow. The thinking was showing; something seemed to be on his mind. "How long are you on Buteral?"

She had to clear her throat; she swallowed too fast. "As long as it takes." Her voice came out husky. "Why?"

"Just wondering. I can drop you dirtside now if you want, but I thought since I got to wait forever for clearance you might as well go down in the shuttle that brings the journalists in the morning."

"That's fine," she said. "Are you going to talk to General Rieekan?"

"I'm willing to listen," he said shortly. He didn't want to talk about it; Han Solo wasn't one to hope out loud, and Leia got the feeling he didn't use to have to seek out work often. Jobs came his way, like General Kenobi seeking a fast ship to Alderaan...

_Trouble is contagious, _he had said. And she worried most of the night, hearing the sounds of the hammock rings rub against the ropes where Chewie slept. The whiskey gave her weird dreams, and in all it seemed the Empire was winning. Her father sat in his favorite chair, but he was flanked by storm troopers; Han was trying to swing but dodging blaster bolts that shot out of the branches of her favorite tree; Chewie was a chess player, forced to battle the Mantellian savrip.


	45. Contemplation

Leia lay for a time, awake and alone on a bunk in the crew quarters. The _Falcon_ was quiet, her hull still linked with _Home_. Inner systems were running; she felt the air circulator, sensed a dim light out in the corridor, but the powerful hum of the engines was absent.

She thought of Darth Vader, and the constant hiss of his respirator, and wondered if he ever got tired of hearing it, or if it was the one thing that assured him he was still alive.

And she pictured General Kenobi, who was so quiet at the moment of his death. That little smile for Luke as Vader struck him down. He was ushering Luke on his way, wasn't he. He seemed to think Luke would be all right, left alone with a Princess and a smuggler.

_Poor Luke._

The mystery returned, as it often did in the early hours. She knew she might never learn the truth, but it didn't stop her from puzzling over it.

Her father had given her Kenobi's name a few years ago. _He is a Jedi Knight. _That didn't mean much to Leia, but it did to her father; the Jedi featured prominently in stories he told of the Old Republic. So she had sent the holomessage to Kenobi, and he came to her aid. Watching it with Luke- had he sensed the contrast between Luke's youthful vigor and his own age? Did he _know? _

She didn't understand. Either of them, her father or Kenobi. How they came together, the babies they had in common. Luke's father was a Jedi- that raised more questions than it answered. Why didn't Luke know anything of his mother? Was the infant at the Jedi Temple?- Leia wasn't about to delve into that mystery.

She didn't know much about her own origins, she realized now. She had asked- little, innocent questions. But she was very young, and she had love and security, and her father's sad gravitas had stopped her from pursuing more. While he was alive she hadn't needed it, but now she saw just how many holes there were in the story. His dying friend had no mate, no other family, at all?

And she wondered suddenly, disturbed: was she... stolen? Leia had always assumed her birth mother was Alderaani. The bunk on the _Falcon _provided distance, a rational, unbiased viewpoint and Leia saw her assumption was ethnocentric. Was it even an official adoption, a legal one? Per the House of Organa it was; Alderaan recognized the little baby as a Princess. Had Bail Organa deceived the planet?

She dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. He wouldn't steal a baby. Her parents were childless many years before Leia was added to their family. If they'd wanted a child so badly they could have made it happen many times over.

She was an emergency, then.

And that fit; her father talked often of the end of the Republic and the Jedi purge. He'd been greatly affected by the events, and he told her how, for just a few days, everything dissolved into chaos.

Her father had gone to the Temple after the purge, to see if he could help. Had he met Kenobi there?

They also had in common... whatever it was called, like her Alderaan.

Her nerves tingled with an impatience, and she couldn't be still anymore. She got out of bed and tiptoed to the galley to start some kaf. It was dark in there.

"Lights," she whispered, but nothing happened. "Lights," she said again but in a low, real voice that used sound waves. The room remained dark. She groped around, but couldn't locate a switch, so she worked by the light of her comm. At least it was ready; Han had cleaned it from use the night before. Water trickled into the machine, and Leia waited, her thoughts returning to her father and General Kenobi.

Two ideological men, one who lost the Jedi Temple and the other who lost the Republic. Not physical worlds, but worlds nonetheless.

Were they subdued, in shock, or were they able to see a future in the babies?

Leia grew frustrated. Then why wait nineteen years? And surely Kenobi meant to wait longer, because Luke had no clue, but it was Leia who spurred events along.

Kenobi knew about Luke. Knew who his father was, felt the power of the Force in the baby. Tatooine was a hiding place.

_Let us make a back-up plan, _Kenobi would pose to her father. _Should anything happen to me before the boy completes his training..._

If indeed there ever was a plan, they couldn't enact it. Leia was arrested, her father doomed on Alderaan. So Kenobi took Luke to a cantina. He wasn't just looking for a fast ship. He was looking for someone who could take Luke in.

Leia smiled at the thought. Han was the most paternal of all the patrons?

No. Of course he wasn't.

Chewie was.

Leia filled a dispo cup and inhaled the rich smell of kaf, grateful for Chewie. It wouldn't surprise her if General Kenobi had told the towering Wookiee the whole story.

Well, it was a good choice. A Wookiee held a discretion and wisdom the short lifespan of a human couldn't possibly provide. _All I need you to do is watch over him, _Kenobi could have said.

Leia didn't factor into Kenobi's intentions. They weren't going to rescue her originally, Leia remembered. Kenobi was doing as she bade, bringing the plans to Alderaan. And neither was Han an essential part, other than the fact that it was his ship. She was certain that if Chewie knew something, Han didn't. Kenobi assigned Luke immediate value; Han and Leia were left to discover their own worth.

Is that why they were drawn to each other?

And Leia flushed. She hadn't meant to think that.

She sipped more kaf, and the thought came back.

Luke on one side of the garbage masher, she and Han on the other. Luke cheered into his comm, and she put her arms around Han's neck, the only part of him not covered in armor.

Poor Luke?

Leia was a little bit ashamed. Yes, the Luke of nineteen year old secrets and inaction was something to pity. Even he knew it. But the Luke whose neck was not embraced by a Princess? Who was she to think that?

How easy it was to do, though. It gave her pause. What if- Did he think _poor Leia_? Did Han? Her cheeks burned. If either one said something like that to her, if she knew they even thought it...

_You both needed rescuing, don't forget!_

Maybe it was just her. Pity was something a princess mustered easily. Her life was so vastly different from most. Several residences, twelve maidens. Her father collected expensive speeder models because he liked to look at them. She could provide food to the hungry, but she didn't know what it felt like to be hungry.

She didn't pity all of Luke, though, she defended herself. In fact, some of the opposite, where she was even a little jealous of him. He had a destiny. And that didn't stop her from genuinely liking Luke.

She made her way through the dark galley into the lounge. The indicator lights from the tech station provided the only light, not enough. She dropped clumsily into the seat, forgetting the width of the curve of the bench, and her kaf sloshed inside the cup. The liquid's movement reminded her of Buteral's sea.

Pity didn't hold people together. Royalty didn't provide evenings like she had enjoyed with Luke, Han and Chewie the night before. Time and togetherness was the luxury, not the quality or number of something.

Links in a chain, she had thought last night after Luke left. Was his in the center, labeled _Destiny_? Not necessarily; not if the links were equal in strength. A chain was useless if it was easily broken.

It seemed the strength of her own link lay in her past. All she had accomplished, up to the moment she arrived at Yavin. She couldn't see how anything else would top that. The same for Han. Already traveled the galaxy, freed a Wookie from slavery. He'd done a lot. This was different than Leia's accomplishments; it was... she didn't know. Dashing? But life had caught up with him too, and he was in debt, on the run.

Leia sighed. She was probably wrong in thinking this was something she needed to solve, to know, but that's how she operated. All she knew was Luke made her feel... she shook her head at herself, unsure. Like watching from above, with affection and love... not a goddess. A satellite. Like a moon. Something grand and epic; part of the story, but also not really.

It was the opposite with Han. He was organic; gritty and universal. It made her think of the snails.

Clouds or clarity: were they all here because fate deemed it, or because it was a random series of events?

_Alderaan,_ Leia's mind whispered. Her thoughts always led her there, always finished there. Whatever the answer, it was sickening.

Leia closed her eyes. It was so disconcerting to understand a past was lost and a future would be found, but to not know one's place in the present. She was on the _Falcon_, she told herself, and maybe that's all there was for now.

And Leia had an urge to view Han sleeping, as if that would show her the real Han, not the one who ricocheted off stimuli, the sum of instinct and reaction.


	46. Questioning

It was a little surprising, to see Han emerge still in the grip of sleep. Leia didn't remember him like this from earlier; he always seemed to be awake. Maybe her sleep cycle had been different than his, since he was working the cockpit then. Maybe his night had been as restless as hers. Had he drunk all the whiskey? He was usually so alert, on.

That Han put her at ease, despite Luke's mention of dents and bounty hunters, because he anticipated something happening. That Han wouldn't get caught. _This ain't real life, _he had said of her skill with the training remote and spun a tale for her of being wanted and watched.

Surely, that level of vigilance was exhausting, and it took discipline. And the Alliance was patrolling around _Home, _over Buteral, identifying threats. She supposed he was entitled to a night off.

She studied him. He squinted at her from the soft light behind him in the corridor, grunted in response to her "good morning," and his hair was going in a few directions. It looked like he had slept in his clothes; the neck of his shirt was not centered properly. Either that, or he had just thrown them on. At least the gun holster was off, as were his boots. Gray socks covered his feet, and the big toe of one was developing a hole.

Sleepy Han had an appeal. He looked warm and touchable. But instead of wide awake he was wide open, vulnerable almost. This Han could get caught.

"Lights," he croaked. The galley did not brighten. Han scowled at Leia.

"I couldn't get them to work either," she answered his accusatory look.

He went over to where the warmer and cooler were installed into the wall, and slapped it with his palm. Lights flickered in response, then fell back into darkness. He slapped it once more, and they came on.

Han gave her a new look, one of self-congratulation.

Leia rolled her eyes. She was tempted to irritate him, because it seemed like it would be easy to do, and the charm of his appearance was working off quickly.

"I'll wait until you're human," she said instead, because it would also be easy for him to irritate her, and that's not how she liked to start the day. She left him to grope for a dispo cup.

Her comm had messages: a meeting request from General Rieekan, a reminder from Dr. Renzatl, and a farewell from Mon Mothma. Leia didn't know if she should be disappointed Mon hadn't asked to meet. She decided she didn't care.

Chewie was refreshingly the same. He went through the hatch to collect the other blankets Luke's Rogue team had borrowed, and also recovered a deck of cards. He waved them at Han with a comment.

Leia didn't ask for a translation; Han was too grumpy, and she wondered what he said. _Almost forgot these, _maybe. Or _Those Rogues sure are slobs. _It sounded a little resentful: _you'd be blaming me when you couldn't find them. _Any of them fit, and she wondered which one Luke would sense.

She was still answering messages when Han appeared a short time later, the one she was familiar with. The one who wouldn't get caught. He surprised her by announcing he would take the shuttle down with her.

"Captain Trillo said Buteral would see a lot of ship traffic today," he explained. "Lots of departures."

"Yes, everyone who came in for the welcoming ceremony will be leaving," she agreed. "But I don't need an escort."

"Who said I was escortin' you?"

"Oh, I forgot." Leia didn't know why his answer was so irritating. "Your job hunt."

"I'll be stuck dirtside all day," he said, "You'll have to entertain me."

His grin slanted upwards, Leia thought if he weren't so keen to pick up work it might be hope, so she told him, "You're a grown man."

"S'what I thought," he mumbled.

Chewie made to crawl through the hatch.

"No, you stay here," Han directed.

The Wookiee straightened, and his language sounded frustrated.

"Then," Han rejoined with sarcastic patience, "that's when you bring the _Falcon _down, right? Fuck, Chewie. Make sense."

On the shuttle, a few of the journalists recognized her and Leia leaned toward Han to engage him in conversation and hold them at bay. She didn't want to talk about anything they would want to, Alderaan or the war.

"Chewie wanted to come?"

He wasn't very helpful in assisting her. "Yeah," was all he said.

"He's been cooped up on the ship," Leia observed. "I can see why he'd want to come dirtside."

Han shrugged with his lips.

Leia persisted. "Why didn't you let him?"

"He doesn't need to."

"But, if he wanted to-"

"It's not what he wants," Han interrupted. "It's what he thinks. That he's got to follow me around, be my shadow."

"Shadow," Leia murmured, and in her mind Chewie was asking Han _may I walk in your shadow _just like Carlist Rieekan had asked her. "Maybe he's not following you. Maybe he actually likes you."

Han snorted. "There's nothin' else to him but the life debt."

"That's not true," Leia objected. Han had mentioned it last night, just introduced it. Leia had heard of life debts, but they generally weren't employed among humans- the species were far too flighty- and they weren't common. "I've never thought about the receiving end."

"It's a pain in the ass. Every time I cross the street wrong, he thinks he's got to be the one the speeder hits."

"But, he means it," Leia reasoned. "Because of your actions-" she kept her voice low and her vocabulary generalized, her eyes roving the shuttle's interior, mindful of spilling his history accidentally to a journalist when he'd been unwilling to speak it to Luke or Leia.

"It's a decision," Han argued. "I made one, once. Now he's got to make the same one over and over, when there's no need to make one?"

"You feel like it diminishes your decision?" Leia asked. She wasn't quite sure what Han found so irritating about owning a life debt.

"No." Han had to think about it. Apparently, he didn't let himself go past being irritated. "It diminishes him."

And Leia thought she was close to understanding. "That your life is more important than his. That does diminish your decision, in a way, right? because you-"

"Whatever." Han was still irritated. "It's a pain in the ass," he repeated.

The journey dirtside only took minutes. Leia turned her gaze out the porthole, but the moon was dark and she could make out only shadows that hinted at the topography. The lights erected by the Alliance were bright dots. When she looked not through the porthole but at it, the interior of the shuttle was mirrored. Leia's own face was there, small and pale.

"I had maidens. Twelve," she told her reflection. "As Princess. And that's exactly what they did, walk in my shadow."

Han looked at her. "For protection?"

"No," she shook her head, still looking down at the moon. "For-" and she found she couldn't answer the question. Not anymore. Twelve maidens for each goddess. To remind their Queen or Princess of her duty and origin, was supposed to be the answer. But how were they supposed to do that when they were in the background?

"Symbolism," she decided.

"Sounds crowded," Han said.

His observation was multi-faceted: ignorant, at times true, and funny. "It's the way it was," she said simply.

Back on Buteral's shoal, they walked the bridge up to the conference room together, and it was things she did on Buteral, only now there was this man at her side. It felt... remarkable, somehow. Others had walked beside her, Rieekan for one, but she was his Princess. And Luke- yes, she was still the Princess, even though he called her Leia. Because of the Death Star, she thought, or maybe even going back as far as the holomessage.

Han knew she was a princess. Of course he did. He gave her all sorts of titles, and at least twice he'd used her title properly.

Her pace was brisk, as it always was, and next to her he sauntered with a long-legged stride. The deference was not in him, she realized. Leia looked at him from the corners of her eyes. He was just walking, habitually vigilant again with hands free at his sides, eyes green from scanning the vines that grew up the high humps of land.

Because her planet was destroyed? And she wasn't rich anymore, with all the wealth he could imagine?

_Maybe you'd like it back in your cell, Your Highness, _was the first thing he ever said to her. The Princess in need of rescue, who had the audacity to complain about the methods her knights employed.

After that it was _Your Worshipfulness _or _sister. __You Heightness._ It was another way of winking at her, wasn't it. Like they shared some insight together no one else knew about.

After many minutes of silence, he spoke suddenly. "So, are you married?"

Shocked, she turned her face to his. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

He shrugged. "Corellian royals were historically married off really young. I don't know much about you, if you think about it."

"I don't think about it." She faced forward again. "I've only recently turned twenty."

"Huh. Luke did too. Coupla weeks ago, I guess."

"No," she answered, "I'm not married."

"Rogues got him drunk."

"I don't know much about _you_."

"Okay, okay. I'll stop asking."

Leia smiled. "Are you married?"

Green eyes came down to hers, fighting a darkening. From all her brown, she supposed. "No," he said distinctly. "I'm not married."

He'd rescued a slave and rescued a Princess. One most pretended they didn't see, and one most had to lower their eyes to. One that cost him- probably almost everything- and for the other he had demanded a reward.

The reward gave her a bitter taste. But she almost had it, was almost able to explain him to herself, thinking why... the complexity, surprising as it was, and the reward was...

They reached the steps, and the thought shifted along with the terrain, and she was just hitting on... not respect for beings, not equality exactly, but a ... a leveling, and that the reward came from one bitterly disappointed...

She grabbed the rail, lifted her knee, _he needed rescue_ the last whisper of her train of thought, and she didn't know how she'd gotten there, and it didn't seem to make sense, and she shook her head at herself.

He accompanied her up to the snack counter and she took one of the muffins he had brought yesterday on his load.

"Didn't you eat something on the _Falcon_?" he asked. He declined an offer of a muffin.

"Thank you for your delayed hospitality," she told him. "Chewie offered me a roll but it had a spot on it."

Han scowled a little. Evidently he thought her a food snob. "You know, yeast is an organism."

"So? In bread it's no longer alive."

"And medicines are made from molds."

"I'm not sick. Nor do I wish to become so."

"I know for a fact you don't get sick from eating a roll with a little bit of mold," he snapped.

She arched a brow, surprised at the spike in irritation. "For a fact?"

His eyes moved, from her own to the top of her head. Climbing out of the conversation, she said to herself.

"I'll eat later," he said. "Got things to do."

Her brow stayed up. "You do?"

"You're not the only one, sweetheart," he leered.

It was a bit dizzying, his range of defenses, and she refused to get caught up in him. "I wish you a successful day, then," she said frostily.

She was going to show him her office, the window she stood at, share what she was now, but when he was like this it was better to hold back. She swept with her muffin from the room and made her way to her office alone.

* * *

"I hope your evening was pleasant, Your Highness," General Rieekan stood at his desk as Leia entered.

"Very," she smiled at him. Her eye caught the small candle sitting on his deck, it's tiny flame swirling in reaction to the air she disturbed upon entering, like a warning. "How was yours?"

"Enjoyable," Rieekan answered tactfully. "Food was good, information was interesting."

"Mine was the same."

"Good." He grinned at her. "Different information, I'd wager."

She smile turned careful. "Different food, too. You lit your candle," she observed.

"Have you lit yours yet, Your Highness?" Carlist asked Leia.

"No," she sighed. "I did add one to the Graveyard. Of course there was no flame..."

The flame was to burn constantly, a beacon for the spirits. Leia remembered how she had lit the lumpy candle on the _Falcon _and then released it through the airlock, and how it was snuffed immediately.

_That one was me._

She felt guilty, but everything Alderaan had a way of tearing her heart to pieces afresh. She wanted a break. "Later today I will. We're so off schedule."

"Yes, but it's the intention that forgives the timing."

"You sound like my father," she smiled gently at him.

He dipped his head. "Thank you."

Tradition held that stories of love and life were told around the candle. Here, in Rieekan's office, it might just be him talking to his candle.

"Did you... say anything-" Leia started to ask.

He ducked his head. "With the students. I told them how I courted my wife."

"Ah," Leia breathed.

"Some of them found me quite sappy, I'm sure." There was humor and sadness in his eyes. "You'll like this, Your Highness," and he told her the students had decided to group theirs together in the courtyard and how they had erected a protective shelter around them so the wind wouldn't blow the flames out. Major Klander had been very pleased to see their team building strategy. Then they had sat around the candle fort and talked about their early school experiences.

Leia watched the small flame flicker. For some reason, it was hard to feel positive about the tale, though she knew it was.

Rieekan sighed when she didn't respond. "Life is supposed to resume after thirty days. The dead are guided, led by the flame and our stories, to rest. But rest eludes us, doesn't it?"

Leia nodded painfully.

"Maybe someday," Rieekan said after a long pause. "Shall we, Princess?" and he opened the file for the civil suit.

Leia welcomed the change in subject. It was like a gift. "Yes," she said. "Let's."

Rieekan handed her a tablet. "I downloaded it here for you. You'll want to read through it. Twenty-eight screens."

"Twenty-eight?" Leia scanned it, her heart sinking a little. The second screen was a table of contents, at least.

"Yes. The lawyer drafted it and you'll sign it once you approve all the information. I gave him as much information as I know, but you may want to add to it. This is a draft; there are comment fields."

"What happens after I sign?"

"It will be filed in court. You see on screen one," from upside down, Rieekan used his stylus to scroll, "there. We're asking for an arbitration panel."

"Arbitration panel," Leia repeated thoughtfully. "It won't go anywhere, will it. On Imperial City! The judge will be loyal to the Emperor. He'll throw it out of court."

"You never know, Your Highness," Rieekan answered. "Maybe an Alderaani will be selected."

Leia muttered sarcastically, "And Darth Vader will be a witness for the prosecution."

She went over screen one thoroughly, reading the language of court without really absorbing it. Then she glanced up. Rieekan had returned to his own work, his gray eyes looking serious.

Documents of law weren't new to her. In the Senate the language was just as dense.

Leia reluctantly returned to the cover page of her suit. _Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, individually and as heir to Bail Organa, Viceroy, deceased..._

Her father. Leia's posture slumped. Her hand worked at her lips. "I thought- Alderaan," she said brokenly to Rieekan. "We're to sue for the planet-"

Rieekan looked at her a long while. "I think," he said slowly, "it's got to be done this way. The courts are set up to protect the lives of beings. A planet holds all those lives. It's beyond our scope of thinking is what it is, Your Highness."

She wrote 'Alderaan' in the comment field. It was much harder to do this reading her father's name.

_plaintiff. - individually and - as heir or representative of estate. _

"These dashes are for additional names? The plaintiffs?" Leia asked.

"Yes. Anyone of age can join the suit. The lawyer is going to approach Alderaani survivors-"

"I hate that term."

"I know, Your Highness. The lawyer will in effect advertise to Alderaani and get as many as he can to join the suit. In fact, I'll add my name now-"

"Do we have to wait to get them before we file?"

"We'll proceed with just our two if that's all he gets. If the verdict goes our way, a statute of limitations will be established. That will protect ones that aren't of age, like our orphans." Rieekan nodded his head upward, indicating the student group that came to Buteral.

_Complaint for Damages: Negligence..._

"I dislike the term 'negligence' too." Leia said, still reading. "It was murder."

"Civil suits are for monetary compensation," Rieekan explained. "I hope we see him tried for war crimes. Really you are doing something brand new. And of course Palpatine did something brand new when he created a weapon capable of destroying a planet."

Leia sighed and began the introduction. _Unconstitutional acts or omissions by officers... battle station Death Star... set in motion events leading to the complete annihilation..._

"Gods," Leia rubbed her forehead.

_Parties: Bail Organa (Bail), deceased, ... spent his entire life in service to the House of Organa... loving father..._

"It's an obituary," Leia observed. "We need millions of obituaries, Carlist. You had two sons and a wife. Three more pages."

Rieekan nodded sympathetically. "We'll get it done, Your Highness."

"They die over and over again," Leia despaired. "Some won't want to sign."

Rieekan had pushed his chair back. For a moment it looked like he wanted to rise, but got control. "Many will, Your Highness. It's not for money. I encourage you to hang in there, Princess. We get this done and we'll protect the galaxy from something like this happening again."

"Gods, I hope so. But I don't know, Carlist. It seems we've crossed a bridge that crumbled behind us. Once we've seen it, done it, what's going to stop anyone from thinking it can't be done again?"

Her words were terrible, she knew it, but she couldn't stop them. _There's no cure, _Luke had said, and he was so right.

Rieekan looked unhappy, but he said, "We've got to hope, Your Highness."

Leia nodded. Section four was a statement of relevant facts. _The Death of Bail Organa..._ There followed more dots, names to add.

"Carlist," she said.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

She was going to tell him to forget the suit, forget it all, say _I can't_, but the flame was flickering and she thought of his sons, how his mournful grin introduced all he'd become. _I once had a family, _it seemed to apologize, _but I don't anymore._

Leia cleared her throat. "Was there anything else I missed when I went up to _Home_?"

Rieekan considered, his mouth turned downwards. "Nothing that affects you directly, I think," he mused. "The Bavasuuti group will get medical screenings today."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes. The CTC has been invaluable."

"Yes."

"And Captain Solo is meeting with them about taking on some of the shuttling, bring stranded Alderaani here a bit faster. But I'm sure you know that, Your Highness."

Leia's face remained composed. "I'm surprised you do."

"Just what Officer Massawawi told me," Rieekan's eyes watched the candle. "They are to work out the details today. He came dirtside?"

"Yes." Leia's pulse had started to hammer in her ears. "It's charity work," she heard herself object.

Rieekan lifted his hands. "Service is volunteer, yes. The doctors, the social workers, the pilots," he added the latter with a bit of emphasis. "But the CTC can't operate without a budget. There are costs. Supplies, fuel. Staff. I thought you'd be pleased, Your Highness."

"I had told you- are they aware he needs money? That there's even a bounty on him?"

"Shino-ak sent his file over," Rieekan nodded. "I shared it with Officer Massawawi. Actually, there are three bounties."

Leia's eyes popped a bit. "Three?"

"All from Jabba the Hutt. Placed at different times."

"I don't understand. Why not combine them into one?" Agitation started Leia's legs to bounce on the seat. She didn't know where it came from, or where to direct it.

"It is odd, I agree. Not that I am familiar with the system of bounty. I would expect, like you, Your Highness, that the original would be rewritten if more was to be added." Rieekan went back to his computer and opened a new screen. "Here it is. The oldest from two years ago is failure to deliver-"

"Spice," Leia interrupted.

Then failure to make repayment. The latest one is fresh, over a month ago, for the murder of an associate." Rieekan's eyes met Leia's. "That one is serious."

"An associate of Jabba the Hutt," Leia said. "Probably not a being the galaxy will miss."

"I meant the value of the bounty," Rieekan clarified. "But yes. I don't understand the Hutt's strategy. The most recent specifically states that it does not negate previous issues. I suppose he'd pay out all three so the value would be the same as one that would include all the offenses."

"Maybe it hints at how badly he wants the capture," Leia suggested. "The Hutt is like us- he can't expect the courts to take him seriously when he breaks Imperial law to the extent he does. But his underworld includes some culture of justice."

"It's more he operates outside the boundaries of Imperial law. The Hutt feels it's fine for him to take a life."

"Another version of our Emperor," Leia surmised.

Rieekan was struck by the thought. "That's true," he said.

The candle's flame was moving with more urgency now, caused by the motion of Leia's legs. She pictured the small flame jumping to Rieekan's desk, catching the contents on fire, turning the whole room to a blaze.

* * *

_Happy Anniversary to the story! I throw confetti in the air and blow kisses to all those who have hung in there all this time. My sincere thanks. _


	47. Resentment, III

She still didn't have anything. All this work, and everything kept getting taken away. Were the maidens ever any use?

And him, charity work. Leia sniffed with indignation. He got a reward for her, but for others he'd do it for free? When it was her work?

She needed the war. She needed an enemy. Those were easy.

And not just playing at it, with a hollow gun and a headstart.

No more learning. She needed to take charge. No names in between dashes, victim after victim.

She didn't want pity. She didn't need their respect. They received resentment, bottled up and simmering.

The submoon was theirs now, too. On the bridge, the shoal. Hiking where the mounds were accessible. She hadn't done that. On the water even, the water craft safe on its repulsor hovers, and they spread a net and let it sink.

She hadn't done that yet either.

A ship floated upward, leaving. Red. He would be down there, somewhere, like them. Exploring. Got his deal, set in stone.

She could find him probably, if she looked hard enough. A lean figure, black and white like a second skin.

If she wanted him, then why didn't she?

* * *

Dr. Renzatl was staring at her shelves, at the pieces of burnt brick at each end of the row of data manuals.

They were mementos from a very chaotic time. The Bombing, as Corellians now referred to it. All were affected, but not all physically, like Albrina. Except, she had started to shake.

The bombing hit her city. Albrina no longer lived there. Maybe the largest? Funny what you didn't know about your own home. But the city that set the standard. The city that moved credits.

As soon as she heard about it, Albrina, from Corsucant where she was at university, tried to reach her mother. Her comm was always held at the ready; she hit send every few minutes. While packing, walking the campus and telling each of her professors she needed to leave, arranging with her residency for an extension, watching the holonews.

Albrina left the same message again and again. "I need to hear from you. Why don't you call back?"

The city was in rubble. They were saying comms were down. Albrina bit back her worry, waited for satellite connection to be re-established. That must be why her mother didn't call.

According to the holonews, the map of of the strike areas included where Albrina had grown up. And the footage! The people working so hard to clear the area, find survivors. After a few days, and her mother hadn't called her back, nor her sister, and she was still shaking, Albrina stared at the number of reported dead, and knew, without knowing, without wanting to know, they were caught in the bombs.

There were unexpected stories of survival and reunions. Albrina wanted to be one of those. She still called, every few hours, dreading their recorded greetings as the call went to message. "Just tell me you're alive."

The crowds at the port, beings- humans, mostly- were huge; all trying to get transport, and Albrina paid careful attention to the charge of the comm, leaving it open and watching for it to light up while she waited in line, while she sat against the wall.

While in transport of course communication wasn't possible, but as soon as they hit the atmosphere of Corellia she had pulled out her comm.

The only message was from her fiancé, asking if she'd made it yet.

The sweepers had already cleared away much of the rubble. Two weeks had passed. The lovely neighborhood she remembered with the row of houses set equally apart along the street and the tall trees creating a barrier from the air speeder lanes above was mostly gone. A section of brick wall here, a shattered trunk of a tree. She walked on tiny pieces of glass.

It was unreal. It was unrecognizable and therefore not real. Not her neighborhood. Where was it? Where had she lived? Where was her mother, and sister, and her sister's three little boys? They must have been getting ready for school. Albrina had calculated the time, recreated their last moments based on information from the holonews.

There were workers in the neighborhood. She was told where she could view- where they had set up a temporary morgue, but she didn't want to. So she picked up five pieces of rubble: three little ones for each nephew, and two big ones for her mother and her sister, and put them in her bag. She would have liked them to be from her childhood home, but there was no way of knowing. And she realized she would keep looking at her comm for the rest of her life, wondering, if she didn't go see.

Her fiancé was from another part of the planet, unscathed. Albrina didn't want a party after they married, but her future mother-in-law did, so they left a table empty to remember her family. Starting out their lives and careers together, she and her husband moved a few times, and Albrina lost three of the pieces of brick. They just- crumbled, into dust. She took care of the surviving pieces- that's what she called them- wrapping them in cloth and setting them on top of files whenever she set up a new office.

Albrina no longer felt shaky. She couldn't remember when that had stopped, and she felt badly about that. It seemed it was something she should know. But the pieces of brick were an essential part of her office.

* * *

Notes of Dr. Renzatl  
Patient 20326

Humans have changed. I realize this as I listen to specific ones, the Alderaani. Our trajectory as a species has rocketed upward and I fear we are in danger of leaving them behind.

I have been told of the origins of the planet Alderaan. How twelve goddesses- interesting to me their number, the multiple of the human psyche they represent- came together and fashioned a terrestrial form from elements of space, very much like a spider weaves a web.

The story is so familiar; even with a cast of goddesses it is, at its heart, human in its elements. It is also magical and fantastical. The birth of a planet! Alderaan, according to her children, did not come into existence in a way our science tells us.

And now our science has become like the gods. We can destroy. We have removed the humanity that was the gods- the fury, the love, the chaos- Alderaan was created with emotion, after all- and now humans have learned the power to shape the galaxy.

Not completely, however. We can destroy. We have yet to create.

The destruction of Alderaan has changed the way humans experience trauma, the way they grieve. Usually, when a client comes to us, the trauma has occurred. It has done its damage. What we see is behavior, the emotional and continual reaction to that damage. What I am finding, whether it is the Princess, the General, the mother or the student, is that the trauma is still active. They are brutalized; I think to some it feels with every waking moment.

What humans have accomplished is unnatural. It feels wrong.

Leia Organa, as the Princess, the earthly representation of a goddess, is caught between the emotional and the physical, the magical and the real. She knows, feels the responsibility to do as her mythological mothers once did. She must fashion a home from the void. There aren't twelve anymore. There is just her.

To me this is profoundly unfair, but then I am not Alderaani. She has been terribly hurt, and she is only human. I cannot help thinking, however, of the magic and the real; the men-as-gods on the bridge of that Death Star, showing off their new power to destroy. They boasted to the wrong one, and that is why there is war. For by forcing the Princess to watch her homeworld crumble, they woke in her the power to create.

* * *

For some reason, the Princess hadn't taken a seat yet.

Dr. Renzatl waited from her seat, legs crossed as usual, the transcriptor recording silence.

Princess Leia leaned against the wall, her body angled so she could gaze out the window.

She had changed her hair style, Dr. Renzatl noted. The intertwined braids were elegant and intricate. Her eyes seemed very large, but her cheeks weren't sunken. She was pale. Tiny when she didn't speak. From the cut of the uniform, Dr. Renaztl could see where the hips were wider than the waist, the fullness in the bosom. This was the body of a young woman, not a girl. She had, in a month's time, changed.

"Are you watching something interesting out there?" Dr. Renzatl finally said.

The Princess shifted which foot bore her weight. She shook her head softly. "Just the activity."

"It's a window now. Properly," Dr. Renzatl alluded to a former conversation. "Now that the lights are on."

"Yes, that's true," the Princess answered politely.

It was enough to draw her eyes to the doctor. "Why don't you sit, please," the doctor said. It was not a request.

Princess Leia approached and perched as if she needed to be ready to spring up, her rear forward on the seat, feet flat on the floor.

"You're having trouble getting started," Dr. Renzatl observed.

"I suppose I am," the Princess said, and then she gave a small smile. "Aren't I always?"

"Not always. Would you like me to pick a topic? I expected we would discuss how it went to be reunited with your people."

The Princess merely nodded.

Dr. Renzatl pushed a little more. The Princess, as she recalled, had dreaded the moment, almost equating it with the moment of impact on all their homeworld. It stemmed from the sadistic mind game to which her torturers subjected the Princess.

She said, "Sometimes, just describing- narrating- what happened opens doors."

The Princess nodded again, and her lips parted as if to speak. She pulled at a hangnail on her thumb, her eyes unfocused. "I have a sense," she finally said, "that I know how it went. What happened." Her eyes lifted to Dr. Renzatl, present and clear. "It's a memory."

The doctor was intrigued. The human mind never failed to fascinate her. It was not a text book, but more like an atlas. Some wanted the fast, direct route; others wound their way slowly, with stops. The Princess was not an eager participant in her own health, but she recognized that others thought it important. Much of it was her own training: a Princess should not be flawed.

"A memory?" Dr. Renzatl questioned. "One you can revisit?"

"Yes. And be objective about."

"I see."

"I remember... the before. What you want to talk about. That I was nervous."

"A bit more than nervous. You dreamed that Darth Vader held you in place while they landed on Buteral." The doctor pushed again, this time more pointedly, and the Princess reacted only by a shift in her posture.

"Yes. And of course that is unrealistic, as my nerves proved to be. The students- they touched me."

"How were you touched?"

A hand fluttered. "By... them. As a group. You know, one person might react differently than another, but as a group, they were... the depth of their sorrow. It was," the Princess fluttered a hand again, "pure. Beautiful, in its own way."

Dr. Renzatl only nodded, so the Princess would go on with her thoughts unguided.

"And I felt like their Princess. Not just the nerves went away, but I knew what to do."

"That's empowering."

"Yes. They were- suffering. I could see that. I noticed- different reactions. I suppose that is their personalities? One was more angry, another distressed."

"Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl said gently, "I know you are asking as their Princess. We can talk about that, but I don't want you to forget the woman who was on the bridge, looking out that viewport."

The Princess looked down at her hands. "I haven't forgotten her."

"Perhaps you are asking for yourself as well, then." The doctor set her stylus down. "You want to know if their suffering will abate. If a trauma doesn't freeze emotions in a moment of time, where they are trapped forever? Children are remarkably resilient. If you give them a continued environment of compassion and love, make them feel safe...

"It's a big group," she added. "And it's only been a day really. And, it is interesting; it is, in fact, why my field of study exists, Your Highness, that we are- I call it wired-differently, each of us, which is what you noticed. We may all have the same experience, but we won't react to it the same. It's not completely understood why that happens, whether it's a genetic combination, or if environment, even experience within the womb, is a factor."

"From the womb," the Princess repeated thoughtfully.

"Naturally the study of a fetus and the question of psychological nourishment from the mother cannot be done. There are too many moral implications, but it is known that a body responds to environmental stressors with a release of whatever hormone is needed to restore balance. It causes a chemical reaction, which is a definite physical thing, and which is perceived as emotion. There are some who believe a fetus will also experience the stressors, as well as the mother's response."

"And feel the emotion," the Princess was leaning forward from her perch on the seat, her eyes lit up with natural intelligence. Dr. Renzatl forgave herself for launching down a side path, because the Princess was venturing right at her side.

"That's interesting," the Princess was saying. "My biological mother died in childbirth." Her head jerked up. "Had I told you that? That I'm adopted?"

Dr. Renzatl shook her head. "No, I don't believe you had." It was only a detail, probably not a necessary one, but she made a note of it because for some reason it was surprising.

Princess Leia waved it away. "Because it has no bearing. It was more an incident, something for my parents to remember. For my father, especially. I remember nothing; I was a newborn. I was also told very little. But it goes with what you say: I had love and security, and they were my parents. I was not very curious, I confess."

"You had excellent parents, it sounds like."

"Yes. But I feel for her, now. Now that my parents are history, and she always has been to me, but I don't want history to forget my parents, and yet it seems to have forgotten my birth mother."

"You are growing more curious."

"I don't know," the Princess replied. "Whether it is her, or just that I am realizing the history is incomplete."

"Is there something you would want to know you received from her?"

"You mean genetically, or shared from the womb?"

"Either. Even a name. That would fill in the history."

"Another example of wiring," the Princess stated. "Right? Luke- Commander Skywalker," the Princess corrected and looked at the doctor to see if she needed to. "He has found out more about his father recently- he was orphaned too, in case you didn't know that-"

"I did."

"- and he's just burning to know more. But me... if I'm curious who I favor... there was never any mention of my biological father. My father always said she died alone." The Princess looked up at the doctor. "A funny thing to say, because he was there. He must have been.

"I think of her an as Alderaani woman. That is all. I never wondered about her life, if she was married, what she thought about while pregnant with me. How awful, that her death is more important than her life."

"Because it brought you to your parents."

The Princess was barely listening. "Maybe her death is what I remember."

Dr. Renzatl let the Princess finish her thought. The theme of the session was finally emerging. "You are using that word often," she told the Princess softly. 'Remember.' And other words that imply it. 'History. Memory. Forget.'"

"It's all I have," the Princess said bitterly.

"The past, yes. I understand." Dr. Renzatl had her own training: a therapist remained detached. Yet there were moments when the Princess's predicament caused a rush of affection.

She went on, "Memories flow, in and out, for all beings. They lengthen the present and give form to our sense of the future. But your sense of the past has been abruptly separated."

"It feels much longer. Like I'm alive much longer in the past than I am now."

"That's an excellent description." Dr. Renzatl regarded Princess Leia with satisfaction. "Would you say your memories don't really fit the same way they did before?"

The Princess nodded. "They don't. They just pop up, like the hole in a hedge, or the maidens following me around. Maybe they fit in that they all conclude the same way, to remind me what is lost."

"When they reach that conclusion, are you.. sad? angry?"

"Both, I suppose," the Princess shrugged, rolling her thumbs around each other.

Dr. Renzatl was finding some resistance. The Princess did not like delving into emotion. She tried a different tack. "I'm curious how you described the meeting with the students. You tucked it away as a memory, when it was only yesterday."

"Because I can remember it. I can _see_ myself; how I moved, what I said."

"Your memories on the other side of that barrier, since the Death Star, a month old- they aren't clear?"

"No. There are things from... Since; you'd think I'd remember, like the battle or the medal ceremony, but I don't."

"Let's start from the Since then. Leaving the Death Star. When you think of flying to Yavin- you're on that ship, with two men and a Wookiee, and for you time is reset. What do you remember?"

The Princess was willing. She crossed one leg over the other, still perched on the edge of the seat, and thought. "When you ask that," she finally said, "it's like- in shadow. Sounds, things. If I keep asking myself, the same image rises to my mind. A hydrospanner."

Dr. Renzatl raised her brows. "A hyrdospanner?"

"I remember other things, conversations I had, with Luke. They come to me when I think of Luke later. After. Things he told me. He talked. But I don't see me sitting with him, talking. I see the frayed bunch of wires he is holding."

"Who was using the hydrospanner?"

"He was. And he dropped it. That's what I remember distinctly, how it rested on the floor. The angle it had, the little spots of rust."

"Did you pick the hydrospanner up and hand it to him?"

"No. I think that's why I remember it. He dropped it, to get something to eat. Chewie had brought food out. He just- left the repair project, put it aside."

"To eat."

"Yes."

"What about the Captain? What do you remember of him during this time?"

The Princess moved fingers through the hair by her temple. "It feels funny to describe these. They are flashes. But I see him- moving. Like I catch a glimpse of him, a sleeve, as he leaves a space and goes into another."

"He is in motion."

"Yes."

"One item suspended from action, another that won't stay still."

The Princess blinked at the doctor, who smiled in response. Princess Leia said, "It's symbolic?"

"The mind is wonderful, isn't it."

"I remember, once we got to Yavin," the Princess continued, her brow furrowed, "I remember knowing that we argued, and I can enter the _Falcon _and tell you 'this is where he insisted I take a medscan' or 'this is where he told me he wouldn't join the Rebellion', but I can't really see it happening. I can hear his voice."

"And of Yavin itself? We were there, two days was it?"

"Not very long," the Princess agreed with a nod. "It's- foggy to me. I remember the medal ceremony, when Luke and Han and Chewie came in. It's like a holo. They are standing there. I have a sense I was busy, but I can't tell you with what."

"I remember being outside," Dr. Renzatl said. "The suck sand."

"Oh, yes!" the Princess smiled. "And the temples." Her smile grew serious. "I remember the Graveyard very clearly. I see it before me now, just as I did from the cockpit."

"Perhaps your memories didn't seem so out of place there."

Princess Leia nodded. "Yes. Also-" She paused.

"Please, say it."

"I was in control. It was my request, my idea. And I did things; learned things that I hadn't before. In the Since."

"What did you learn?"

"Chewie started teaching me his language. I wanted to learn to shoot. Captain Solo gave me pointers. He has a training remote."

Dr. Renzatl thought practicing a speed draw as a means of whiling away the hours in hyper an odd way to kill time, but she didn't utter her thoughts aloud. "Why did you want to learn to shoot?"

The Princess had not asked herself the question before. She considered it, her mouth pursed charmingly. "I don't know. I was thinking about Luke, and his voyage on the ship. Before the Death Star. General Kenobi was instructing him in the ways of the Force."

Dr. Renzatl's brows went up again. "With shooting?"

Princess Leia smiled at the incredulity in the doctor's voice. "I think the urgency of the mission had him fast forward through many of the lessons. He was learning to use the lightsaber, and fight."

"And you wanted- what? To experience what Luke experienced?"

"No, I realized, fully, what the destruction meant. That we were at war. That we are all in danger. Alderaan was a weaponless society, you know. I don't want to be unprepared. I don't want to be defenseless."

Dr. Renzatl nodded thoughtfully. She knew the transcriptor was making a faithful recording. But to test a growing theory, she wrote, her stylus tapping swiftly while the Princess gazed out the window, "Alderaan (...) unprepared (...) defenseless."


	48. Observations, IX

Construction still worked at a fever pitch on Buteral, but headlamps were no longer distributed. The lights were always on and Leia thought about getting blinds, either for the window in her quarters or for over her eyes. She didn't go out walking much anymore.

The Bavasuuti group had resumed their school year, as best as possible. Two of the conference rooms were converted into classrooms, and three teachers had been among the adult chaperones. They were cosmography and social science teachers, since that was the nature of the school trip, but they did their best to branch out and offer the sciences and arts, starting the day when the sea was high and the light artificial. The baby's mother started a club in the domestic arts, for girls mainly: plaiting and needlework, but the boys had lots of free time too so joined with a shrug. Major Klander organized hunt ball games, and in the evenings Leia could hear the shouts of play from the courtyard.

She had welcomed two other groups to Buteral. The numbers were growing. So too were the number requesting refugee status. Leia added names to lists: the one of the dead and the one for the lawsuit. She was also moving data, seaming someone's personal information with that of the reparations spreadsheet.

"Hello. Princess Leia?"

Leia looked up from her desk. "Yes?"

"May I?" A man took a hesitant step forward. "Sorry, I don't know the proper etiquette-" He decided a bow would be proper, and performed one, hands stiffly at his sides.

"You don't need to," Leia said with a swallow; sometimes her throat or her stomach or chest burned; she called it emotional indigestion and wanted it to stop. "May I help you?"

"My name is Marcov Petron. I'm with the _Galaxy Satellite_."

"Oh, yes," Leia said, recognizing him as soon as named the holonews source. He was nervous, she saw, like Han or Luke never were. Probably from a world that stratified social levels less than Alderaan had, and he thought he should treat her differently but he didn't know how.

Circumstance, Leia mused. When there was a lot going on, pressure and a fight for survival, societal niceties were dropped. Luke hadn't bowed when he entered her cell. He had taken his helmet off. Han had sneered.

Leia smiled to herself as she beckoned Marcov Petron forward. Months later she was proud she had complained and gotten that reaction from Han. She hadn't meant it as coming from a royal. It was from a person baited with freedom, only to learn her rescuers would get her killed.

Marcov Petron took a few more steps inside her office. "I wondered- I'm sure you're aware of the oral history project we're doing for Alderaan-"

"Yes, I am," Leia answered. She would make him work for whatever it was he wanted.

Petron's appearance was somewhat indistinct. Small features on a wide face, hair that hadn't decided whether to grow or shed. His belly protruded over his belt when he bowed. He was probably about Han's age, she thought, except she didn't know how old that was. Maybe older.

"I came to ask, to make certain," Petron was stammering in her presence, "that is, to see... if you've been included? As Princess, you have a special set of memories, quite possibly, I am thinking anyway, different from any other-"

He prattled on and Leia let him. Two days ago had been her father's life day. The computer date is what reminded her; it was set to Galactic Standard. It sneaked up on her, mean and nasty, and she went to her quarters to tend to her candle. She put a finger to the pool of molten wax, which was too hot but turned warm and soft quickly, taking the form of her fingertip. Leia peeled it off and folded it, but too soon it was hard and no longer malleable, and she let the flame dance under it to soften it again, and pressed it to the candle's top, rebuilding it. She brought up a memory of her father, but it was him at _her_ eighth life day, the year she received a piece of her mother's jewelry. She didn't get much past _today is my father's birthday._ In her head she didn't even call him Pati.

The journalist was saying, "It was my idea and I was pleased Mon Mothma embraced it. Major Klander too; he says it's a therapy. Anyway, we set up a recording booth- the transcriptors TRAD lent us only record eight hours, so the narratives are being transcribed quickly. It's getting a lot of use and we'd like to make it available to you."

Leia's chin rested on her fist and she just listened. When Mon Mothma suggested it earlier Leia remembered feeling touched.

"-and if you can, if you're willing, I would hope that you would sit down for an interview. It can be about whatever-the war, or your memories- I'll take my cues from you. It'd certainly be a scoop, to have you speak-"

A scoop, Leia heard dryly. Of course. "I will, " Leia said, watching the man's face brighten and then fall, as she added, "Only now is not the proper time."

He wasn't so nervous now that she had agreed to an interview. A news hound, on the scent of a job. "As I said before, Your Highness, your perspective at this time, your-"

"My father took the _Galaxy Satellite_," Leia mentioned as casual interruption.

Marcov Petron reacted as if this was a piece of very important information. "The _Satellite's _reputation for journalistic integrity is built on just that," he said. "It pleases me to le-"

"Can you tell me," Leia wondered, thinking of something that had only been distantly related to something else, "what is the economic significance to a company such as the _Satellite_ regarding Alderaan? I imagine it lost a good number of readers."

"Well, yes." Petron's face twisted in a sympathetic grimace. "I suppose we did. I don't have- I don't know those figures, but it is a news outlet with readers across the galaxy-"

"You'll recover, then," Leia presumed coldly. "Isn't that what you are saying, Mr. Petron? No matter the billion humans who bought bread each day, or the twenty percent of that number- less probably-who subscribed to the holonews, who spent a few paltry credits each day interacting with their galactic economy."

"Your Highness, I have no intention-"

"Instead it's credits the others would have spent on Alderaan, things they'll never have again- the doloschisst pearl jewelry, the tapestries. There'll be new items, furniture and print fabrics in the style of, because the source materials are gone forever. I saw the piece the _Satellite_ did on Alderaan collectibles. How the prices have gone orbit high."

Leia had no idea she had pulled these thoughts and conclusions together. Listening as from out of her body, she thought she sounded like her mother the Queen, who possessed an intimate knowledge of Alderaan's unique industries. It was like a power, these words coming from her mouth, and as she noted Marcov Petron's stricken expression wondered idly if it wasn't a little bit like Luke sensing the Force for the first time. Always there, but he never knew it.

_I would be queen._

It was time to tend to her candle. She went to her quarters several times a day to check it and make sure it was healthy. The window was closed to keep the gusts out.

Standing, she asked Petron, "Do you have a card? In honor of tradition, of Viceroy Organa's habits and likes, I promise when I am ready to say something, I will choose the _Satellite._"

"Thank you, Your Highness." Petron fished in a pocket and handed her his calling chip. "And the booth is up there," he gestured vaguely out the window, toward the residential platform.

"I know," Leia said.

"That project is important to me," he turned to tell her upon leaving. "Yes, it's true the _Satellite_ is a for-profit company, but also, we tell stories. And this one is a big one."

"Stories were important on Alderaan, too," Leia said. "But I have too much to do. It might not be until I near the end of my life."

"The problem with that is we never know when that will be," Petron said. "It might be too soon."

That was true, Leia thought, but it didn't cause a reaction within her. She remained behind a few minutes to make sure he was out of the building, her face in her palm, not counting anything.

* * *

Leia showed up at Dr. Rentzal's office faithfully, though she was growing disillusioned with the whole process and wondered if it the continuation of the CBA was even necessary.

It was difficult to make herself keep the appointments, but once there found herself reluctant to leave. Maybe she resented the timer. She didn't like talking, but she liked talking _with _someone. Dr. Renzatl was polished and professional, a bit like a princess should be. Leia liked her. She reminded her of herself. Maybe that's why she kept going. A place where decorum was continued. And their conversations were interesting. They spoke of theory, and the psychology of humankind in general. Leia was interested, not in the now of her situation, but how she had evolved to be. Which of her was she: her mother the queen, or the one who created her. Was she the progeny of the goddesses, or the product of a planet.

She talked about her father a lot, too, because he was on her mind, his birthday and his manner of death, and she thought it an acceptable way- a harmless way- for the doctor to learn about her.

"I do feel I'm better," she assured the doctor. "Not that I was sick," she added. Maybe she should say she felt different, because better implied there was something wrong in the first place.

"No, you weren't sick," Dr. Renzatl agreed. "Injured."

"Yes. I didn't see it then, but looking back I do."

"What do you see now?"

"I was... stunned, I think. And brand new."

"What do you mean by brand new?"

"I'd been... I don't know." When Leia felt that pressure of awareness building her fingers played at her face. "... erased. Everything that I'd been or made me was gone, so I had to learn to do it again. Like what you said, long ago. A patient might have to learn to walk again." Her hand fell back to her lap.

"I did say that. I'm fascinated with your language, Your Highness. Your level of articulation is so thoughtful. 'Erased.' A powerful description."

"That's what it was like."

"Erased," the doctor said again, as if the word would take her on a journey. "Wiped clean. Like a droid? Mind wiped? You are not an automaton, Your Highness."

Leia considered the description with her lips pursed. In a sense, much of what the Princess of Alderaan did was programmed. "No. I had to learn- the Princess that I was isn't the same as what it is now."

"What is it now?"

"I think, it only is because others designate it."

"The role of Princess was destroyed?"

"I think so. Your language is good, too," Leia said though she wasn't fascinated. "It's a role. Fulfilled _by _a person."

"The person is very specific," Dr. Renzatl reasoned. "You can't really separate the person from the role. The child of the Queen."

"Not necessarily," Leia argued. "Remember, I was adopted. Anyone could have become the Princess."

"Ah, but was it so random?" Dr. Renzatl was intrigued. "Maybe your parents would have remained childless if not for you."

"Fate," Leia nodded. "I've considered that, too. The thought gives me chills. And it makes me furious."

"What makes you furious?"

Leia's mind drifted to that god of irony and truth, who left riddles without answer. "To hide the truth like that. To... _use_ us."

"What about your father? You suspect he hid a truth from you-"

"Not truth," Leia was quick to say. "Just parts of information he didn't think I needed yet. He didn't expect to leave me to gather myself up again. So I am sad for him; not angry." Her lips closed in a thin line. "And sad for me."

Dr. Renzatl had a look on her face. It wasn't pity; Leia didn't think she could perform her job if she felt pity, but it was as if something pained her. She said, "You said you feel better. You've gathered up all the pieces?"

Leia glanced down at her hands. "There are some I'll never have."

"Because Alderaan did not give them to you?"

Leia didn't answer right away. It seemed- private. And would the doctor understand? She was older. There was a holocube on her desk of children and a man.

She said, her voice pinched by an unknown hurt so that it went high, "I was to be married after my ascension. Did you know that?"

Dr. Renzatl shook her head slowly, the pain evident again. "One of your names."

Leia grimaced. "I didn't even write his until I had listed everyone in the palace. Lennist. A Duke from the House of Panteer."

"Oh." The doctor paused in realization. "It was an arranged marriage?"

"Since I was four."

"For the purpose of preserving the crown?"

Leia shrugged. "It's how it was done after the War of the Houses, society-wide. The match had to be approved by one's ruling House, to keep the peace. Now it's- it was- more of an economic transaction between two families. Almost perfunctory among the highborn, but you still see it among the general class. It's not as realistic in this age."

"Really." Dr. Renzatl was frowning at Leia. "I hadn't expected that. One of the goddesses was Love," she said.

"Yes. She was paired with the goddess of Time." The translation of her name never sounded quite right to Leia, but it was the best the Basic language had. "An elder goddess. The concept of time that is continuity and tradition and heritage. Rhythms of nature. Love was her harvest."

"It's so interesting," Dr. Renzatl gushed. "Corellia has such a different history, and I see now how it is a culture created by its own mythology. We had two gods. And they fought. But," the doctor remembered herself, and switched which knee was folded over a leg, "getting back to Lennist."

Leia shook her head. "There's nothing to get back to. He was four years older. I barely knew him."

"But you brought him up-" Dr. Renzatl was frowning as she scrolled through her notes, "- we were talking about things erased, and gathering yourself together, and- here it is. Pieces. 'There are some I'll never have', you said." She cocked her head at Leia. "Is marriage a piece you'll never have?"

Leia's fingers worked delicately behind her ear. "Of course I can marry."

"But you won't?"

"How can I know?" Leia's head snapped side to side impatiently. "I was only remarking that in four years I would be the wedded Queen. I would have a husband and in due time I would produce an heir. Goddesses willing."

"That doesn't sound like you," Dr. Renzatl said.

"It's how it was."

"I hear the role and not the person." Dr. Renzatl turned over a palm. "Your marriage would be a chain of events brought forth by the goddess of Time? And your... character, existence? would not deny it?"

"Yes. Alderaan had its way, just as all other places have unique customs." Leia forgave Dr. Renzatl for her lack of cultural intelligence. It was a large part of Leia's training, and had served her well in the Senate, dealing with all sorts of non-human life. Her eyes drifted to the doctor's desk. "May I ask- did you marry?"

"Yes, I did. I was widowed a number of years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Leia looked at the woman sitting across from her and wondered about her. "How did you meet your husband?"

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "At university. He was in engineering. We took the same physical education course one summer. Smashball."

Leia smiled softly. She couldn't imagine Dr. Renzatl playing smashball.

"Corellian as well. Ours was a courtship."

Leia nodded. "And your children?"

"We had none. Those in the holocube are my nephews. My sister's boys." Dr. Renzatl shifted abruptly in her seat. "Let's explore this further. What made you think of Lennist?"

Leia blinked. "I don't know."

"Or, let's put it this way: your future marriage?"

"I don't know. I suppose..." Leia exhaled. "Han asked. Captain Solo. He asked if I was married. He said he didn't know much about me."

"Ah," Dr Renzatl exclaimed softly. "And he asked one who thinks she does not know the answers."

Leia knew she wasn't being teased, but it felt like it. She didn't answer; a catalog of Han rose before her. Attentive eyes, playful mouth, long fingers.

She said, "I barely remember what Lennist looks like. Brown hair and eyes, but then that describes any Alderaani. I probably danced with him at the last ball, but..." she trailed off.

"Do you not want Captain Solo to ask about you? Do you wish instead he could hand you some of the pieces you need to gather?"

_Yes, _Leia answered in her head.

A corner of the doctor's mouth was up. Very Corellian, Leia thought. Dr. Renzatl said, "It's not an uncommon thing to ask. You asked about my husband."

Leia remained quiet.

"It might be he's curious about you. You didn't have that type of conversation with Lennist?"

"Why would he ask when he knows I was to wed him?"

"I meant the curiosity. Getting to know you."

Leia arranged her hands on her lap.

Dr. Renzatl waited, alert and patient. When she sensed Leia had nothing more to say, asked, "How is Captain Solo?"

Leia's eyes lifted to the doctor in surprise, but she shrugged. "Why do you want to know about him?"

The doctor smiled. "I'm curious. I know he's been around, and I know he was part of a very significant time in your life."

"Yes." Leia nodded to her lap. "Lennist... isn't real to me anymore. But- Captain Solo-"

"Is," Dr. Renzatl finished for her. "I can see you are upset, Your Highness, and we are about finished for the day. We can spend the last minutes how you want, but I won't insert a prompt. We covered a lot today-" Leia's eyes flickered surprise and mild disagreement- "- goddesses and roles and people. Themes we've touched on before. The more often we visit, the more we'll learn."

"Curiosity," Leia stated softly, but right now she didn't care for it. She watched the doctor make notes as the transcriptor hummed, and said nothing more until it was time to leave.


	49. Observations, X

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Patient 20236

* * *

In the months that have passed, we continue to apply some order and make sense to this new world in which Princess Leia finds herself. She is tired, she told me, of thinking and feeling. Because of its unprecedented scope, her grief has endured and I suspect will continue for a long time.

I know it is painful, but I have stressed the importance of what I call living the grief, for if it is ignored or pushed aside, it can have long-lasting effects on a person's physical and emotional well-being.

I find she accepts my counsel better if I can show her something like evidence or statistics, but she has come far enough in her understanding of grief, and is trained now well enough to correlate reactions to it that we can meet weekly instead of twice weekly.

She is, of course, focused on the Empire and Alderaan. Two very large things. Regarding the Empire, she mentioned once that she "liked" the anger this grief has given her toward it. Either she saw my alarm before I could hide it or she recognized herself what a dangerous statement that was, for she quickly glossed over it and reworded it to make it sound as healthy as she could. The war, she said, and the Empire's crime, helped her attain a clarity of thought and outlined goals for the future.

"Of course I'm angry," she said, "but no different than General Dodonna or Mon Mothma. War is an angry thing."

To Princess Leia, the Empire is a faceless entity, and Sheev Palpatine is more its creator than leader.

"It's like he breathed it into being," she told me. "It's very young, but in a short amount of time it's very set in its attitudes and policy, very firm. And it's such a bureaucracy. Look at all the hoops I've had to jump through establishing Alderaani identity so the reparations money is deposited."

And she will digress, listing dynasties and empires of the past, wondering if the characterization historians assign the rule, which might comprise a period over several hundred years, was established in the first five minutes, or if it took time. She will talk of certain trade patterns and how a ruler's attitude, perhaps his religious tolerance or lack thereof, influenced the economic prosperity of his region.

This uses up our time, but I permit it. For one, I admit it is interesting and am guilty of getting caught up in the discussion. For another, these musings come from the woman she was before the Empire destroyed her homeworld. Her identity as Princess and Senator, along with her education, had her consider these topics on a frequent basis, and I believe it helps her arrange a sense of events in her mind.

The Empire was immediately aware of the theft of the plans for the Death Star. "The Rebel Alliance wasn't too subtle about it," she told me. "So we had to be carefully subtle in making sure the plans were delivered to the right hands."

The proposed method of delivery was her suggestion, but she shows a great humility in taking credit. One reason, I suspect, is that her father was reluctant that she undertake it, and another is that she regards the mission as failed, even though she did eventually achieve her goal. "I wasn't subtle," she said.

From the perspective of Princess or Senator, her grief is practical and well-placed. She can talk at length about it, openly and freely, and feels she has made progress. Of course, there is more to a person than their societal role and professional identity, and this is where the Princess struggles. She was also a woman and daughter of Alderaan.

The mystery of her birth and her adoption trouble her. The loss of Alderaan has led her to question the fundaments of her self-identity (she is both "erased" and "brand new"). She feels, on the one hand, that she is not the Princess, yet on the other hand recognizes the remaining Alderaani need a leader and she possesses the training to be that for them.

The destruction has raised some very complicated feelings in her. Her memories have shown her how lonely the life of a Princess could be, how her life was geared for service and the continuation of the House of Organa. When Alderaan existed, she was not bothered by her arranged marriage when she was four years old to a person with whom she was still barely acquainted by age nineteen (she is twenty now).

"If somehow I woke up and Alderaan was back, and my father," she said, almost whispering in the honesty of the moment, and the shame of it, "and he said something... I couldn't do it. I wouldn't wed Lennist."

I suspect the cause of this confusion is her new, out-of-Alderaan relationship with her rescuers. They are two men, neither Alderaani, and she has formed a friendship with them that is both natural and puzzling to her. With Commander Skywalker, she is comfortable and at ease; there are enough similarities in their origins where they have common ground and speak as one. I am of the belief that more frequent contact with Commander Skywalker would be beneficial to the Princess. Captain Solo however, has awakened something else in her. Her acquaintance with him, and I do not believe he is deliberately sowing seeds of doubt, has led her to feel orphaned by not only her parents, but her planet as well.

I do not know whether it is her station or physical attraction- and that is no simple thing, nor can it be underestimated- but it is through him that she sees Alderaan as being deficient in preparing one for life's events. Alderaan's philosophy and politics left it open to destruction. The same thing happened to her Princess.

I don't wonder that she reels when she is in his company. She wants to defend her planet, but she is also angry, both for it going away when she needs it, and for putting her in this position. She knows he is not intentionally causing this- like most others, he does not bring up Alderaan- but she is angry with him because he inspires angry feelings.

At the same time, she has sought him out. It was he who evacuated her from Alderaan, and he paid for the first candles. She feels the Alliance regards her as being on the fringe, and he validates that for her. If he wasn't part of the rescue team, I'm not sure where this would head, but because of his early actions and his respect for her, she feels safe enough to be able to explore her feelings. To his credit, the extent of her emotions does not have him feel imperiled, and they are able to maintain the bond the Death Star brought them.

And, perhaps there is a two-way street here. He has sought her out, and to some extent is acting as an extension of her (which also is a source of irritation for her). He has taken on pilot work for the CTC, transporting Alderaani to Buteral. My work is with the Princess and therefore I do not concern myself with Captain Solo, yet his story has become entwined with hers. In session with Princess Leia, I know I haven't heard the last of him.


	50. Time

The baby- Maline or Martine, Leia forgot, and not really a baby, but that's what everyone called her, even Han- was walking quite assuredly now. She was even running and had a bit of a vocabulary. She called Leia "Pinces". Through her, Leia was learning the same lesson again and again: change was rapid, and no matter how one prepared, they were caught unaware.

The baby was an agreeable child, happy. Everyone was her family, though upon first meeting Han and Chewie she had run behind her mother's leg and peered out from the skirt. The _Falcon_ dropped often now from orbit onto Buteral's landing shoal with open clearance just because she operated under the CTC.

"She's staff," Han had enunciated distinctly of his ship, somehow not including himself, which Leia found interesting. For a spacer, he didn't like floating in orbit, tethered to a docking station, and he came down to Buteral to be a loner, something else Leia found interesting. Maline- this was correct, Leia heard the mother use the name- liked to run up and down the freighter's ramp.

"Hey, get out of there," Han would say, and the baby would giggle and run deeper into the ship. Han would toss a dark look at the mother, who laughed indulgently at her daughter, and then he would go in after the baby.

The first time he ushered the child out by pushing gently on her back, hustling her along. The second time he had her by the hand, and deposited her at her mother. "I'm gonna charge admission," Han told her, and the woman laughed again.

The third time, Han looked at Leia while the toddler's giggle invited him to follow. "Chewie, get the kid," he ordered. Then he shut the ramp.

Leia was working on getting the Alderaani to leave. As Princess, she was cooly objective about it. The embassy at Asana was asking for extraction. The Alderaani on this world had not figured in Rieekan's original census because the situation was unstable. Fifty-eight was the new number.

One of the students, a boy of fourteen, had family in Imperial City and they agreed to take him in. The first to get a home, but he remained sullen. Han was slated to make the trip.

"Wanna come?" he leered at Leia. "I'm only asking so you don't get any ideas."

She looked at him like from out of a daze, lips parted.

"I said," Han repeated, "Don't get any ideas."

Leia realized it in a great rush. The boy, flying away from her on the _Falcon_, she remaining behind on Buteral. Imperial City, where she had been a Senator, where the IDIT offices were, where her lawsuit against Emperor Palpatine was filed.

"They won't let you go," Han said.

He was often right about things and she scowled at him, because she was too, and she needed to win this one.

"Where's the kid?" Han asked, searching the courtyard. "The one I'm taking."

Leia looked with him. She knew which boy it was, but how was he going to pick from an assortment of brown-haired and -eyed youth? Did he think he'd see a label? _Relocating to Imperial City?_

"Why?" she asked.

"Got some things to tell him."

"You're making a big deal out of this," she said, leading him over to the boy.

"Isn't it one, though?" Han said.

"Jargist, this is Captain Solo," Leia introduced.

Han took right over. He sat down on the ground, gun holster poking the ground. Not well positioned for a speed draw, Leia observed. She remained standing, a little off to the side.

"Hey, kid," Han said. "I'm the one taking you to Imperial City. You're going on my ship. You've traveled before," he assumed.

The boy nodded.

"Of course." Han nodded back. "Then you know it can take some time and it's boring. My ship isn't a passenger liner; she's a worker. I don't got much crew and we're not there to entertain you. There's not much to do, so bring something. Got it?"

The boy nodded again. Leia thought Han's approach entirely unnecessary. She wondered how he appeared to Jargist, who was keeping his face impassive. With him sitting cross-legged on the ground and she standing, she calculated she could hug Han's head to her waist. She had a different perspective on his brow, noticed his lashes and the beginnings of laugh lines around his eyes for the first time.

"One thing," Han said, "is the candle. Is yours still lit?"

Jargist glaced over to the candle fort under the bench. "Yes, sir," he nodded at Han.

"Never been called 'sir' before," Han glanced at Leia like he might need help. She took a step closer. He readied his face. "The thing is, it's got to be extinguished." Jargist looked startled. "Just a rule of flight, kid; common sense. You can't fly with an open flame."

Jargist looked at Leia and she put her hand on Han's shoulder. "How much time has it been, Jargist?" she asked.

"Twenty-three days, Your Highness."

She nodded. "Almost time. I know we've been raised with thirty days, and there are so many people we know who deserve our thoughts." She paused, giving Jargist time, "What has made this hard is no one is waiting on us, are they. No one really understands. We are not at anyone's mercy, Jargist, please know that. The Captain isn't insisting about the candle because he doesn't like it or thinks it's silly. It's because, simply put, it's a safety factor. We are the ones who have to compromise."

"The family I'm going to didn't even wait thirty days," Jargist said.

"No," Leia realized, "they didn't. They are compromising too. I'm sure they'll have a candle, though." At least, she hoped so.

Jargist stood up and made like he was going to head for the candles. Leia stopped him. Han was the only one still sitting.

"You don't have to extinguish it now," she told him. "Think about what we can do. We, the living, are the ones who are traveling to a new life. If Time, Memory and Forgiveness are with Alderaan, who do you think should accompany us?"

Jargist looked intrigued. "Come up with our own way?"

Leia smiled, and her stomach twisted in a knot. "Yes."

Han stood, and his knee cracked. He gave Jargist some final instructions about departure time, and the boy wandered off with a wave. Han seemed to be waiting for Leia to speak. When she didn't, he muttered, "Figured it might be an issue."

"It was thoughtful of you not to hit him with it upon boarding," Leia said. "Your method was a bit blunt, perhaps, but just the fact that you acknowledged it meant something."

"I didn't go to princess school," Han said.

She smiled up at him, found the lashes and the laugh lines. "I'm rather glad you didn't."

* * *

"I hope you appreciate how differently I've undertaken this," Leia said to Dr. Renzatl. "I'm not disappearing on my own volition this time. I am going through the proper channels."

"Oh, yes, I do appreciate it," Dr. Renzatl was not smiling.

"I've surprised you," Leia said.

"Yes." Dr. Renzatl blinked, her brows up. "Yes, you have. Which surprises me again. It makes me feel like getting up and pacing the room."

Leia couldn't help a slight laugh. "Go ahead, then."

"The thing is, I am hit with so many thoughts, ones that don't belong here. My first instinct is to feel it's not a good idea."

Leia frowned. "Why?"

"Your safety, primarily. That was my initial reaction. Imperial City! The heart of the Empire."

"You lived there," Leia pointed out. "It's not all stormtroopers and the Imperial Palace."

"No, it isn't."

"I lived there, too. During the season, when the Senate was in session."

"Of course you did. I am remembering, Your Highness, the day you came in and wanted to demand that the Alliance plot the Emperor's assassination."

"I am not irrational," Leia said.

Dr. Renzatl nodded. "I see you are not. But you are no longer just a Senator. You're a known agent of civil war."

"The Emperor hasn't named me."

"Surely he knows." Dr. Renzatl kept a steady eye on Leia. "I don't know what his strategy is. Darth Vader survived the Death Star, and he is second in command. He has without question briefed the Emperor."

"Darth Vader is focused on Luke right now."

"Is he?"

Leia nodded. "That's what Luke tells me. He's not sure why. He thinks because he- of General Kenobi. A Jedi who should have died twenty years ago, by Palpatine's order. So maybe Palpatine wants to clean that mess up before he does anything else."

Dr. Renzatl sighed heavily. "There's a war going on! Surely there are other pots to boil."

"I'll be safe," Leia said with self-assurance. "Right now I'm a participant in the Empire. I'm navigating through the lower levels of civil service: the court and financial institutions."

Dr. Renzatl did not look convinced. "General Rieekan is the one to give you permission, not I. He is the one to argue for your physical safety. I am concerned with your emotional safety." The doctor pressed the air downward with her palms, like shutting a drawer on clutter, and she heaved a great sigh. "Alright. Let's talk."

Leia wasn't ready to just yet. "General Rieekan will ask for your input."

"He will," Dr. Renzatl agreed. "And I won't have much to contribute. I can't forbid it. In some ways it's even a natural progression. You were here to greet the first arrivals and it's fitting you want to send off the first departures. I see you as the goddess-Princess, marking everyone so you can find them again. You won't be able to do it for every single person," the doctor warned.

"I know that," Leia said. "I've greeted the most recent arrivals, but we no longer hold the pomp."

"I hope you accomplish what you aim to." The doctor smiled sadly. "Even if you had a plan for you and Captain Solo to infiltrate the palace as secret martial artists and kill the Emperor, you wouldn't tell me."

Leia smiled that the doctor had included Han in the imaginary scenario. She relaxed a little that Dr. Renzatl just wanted to hear her train of thought. "It's innocent, I assure you."

* * *

"I was completely taken aback," General Rieekan admitted, pacing from the window to the desk. As Albrina had expected, he summoned her not long after Princess Leia left her office. "I had no idea the Princess was so... restless."

"She has been," Dr. Renzatl affirmed. "She hasn't walked the shoal in a while. Perhaps that helped her not internalize it. And Captain Solo manages to spark her somehow, with motion or activity. Or envy," she added as an afterthought. "He makes her realize that not only does she need a more attainable goal, but how personal this is."

"Should I reassign her then? Or get another pilot for the CTC trip?" General Rieekan asked.

"No. We need to trust her. And trust in him that he can help her."

The general paced a few steps. "I don't really know him. By his dossier, he's a bit alarming to put in the company of a princess."

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "That's Alderaan talking," she reminded him gently.

"Perhaps."

"I haven't seen his file, but she has described him some to me. When Alderaan talks to her she is just as surprised to find him in her life." Dr. Renzatl turned thoughtful. "I know this is a professional visit, General, but you see how intricate this is, your lives on Alderaan and your lives now without."

General Rieekan nodded. "Even now that some time has passed and I should be getting used to it, but I often have the same feeling I first did. One of total shock and surprise, like the ground opened up and I find myself in new territory and I don't know how to live in it."

Dr. Renzatl nodded understandingly. "Well, she has found someone to help her, and it happens to be a Corellian smuggler."

General Rieekan smiled. "Good for her, then."

Dr. Renzatl smiled back. "Yes. Commander Skywalker too is another. He is going through something very similar."

Rieekan sat back down at his desk and rubbed a thumb thoughtfully.

"She has your permission?" Dr. Renzatl asked.

"I don't like it," General Rieekan said. "But she had a noble speech prepared." Dr. Renzatl smiled. "About the boy meeting family." He looked up at the doctor and gave her a hapless grin. "She has assured me she will keep a low profile. The Princess of Alderaan in Imperial City!" He put a hand to his hair. "The galaxy's gone mad, do you know that?"


	51. Memory

Time, Memory and Forgiveness. Leia played her finger in the flame of her candle. Such important roles, the goddesses that escorted the dead, but Leia hadn't thought of them in a long time. The- not the goddesses, but the idea, the things- were also three that made up a large part of a living being's consciousness, weren't they. Time, memory, and forgiveness. Yes.

Roles, Dr. Renzatl had noticed.

Change is what Leia noticed.

Not change. Upheaval. Reversal. The dead outnumbered the living.

It was the living who needed shuttling to a new place. That's what Leia told the boy, Jargist, the first to leave Buteral. The dead were all together, in the Graveyard. Their home. Alderaan. Leia said the word, whispered _afterlife_, let the word fall from her lips, and the flame jerked with her breath.

She wondered if there was such a thing. For the living there had to be. A life after.

Leia had found her way to Buteral so far. From the Death Star to Yavin, to a brief dalliance among the dead in the Graveyard, and now she was here. She wasn't done, she thought. And the others, the not-dead, they were being gathered from any point of the galaxy and brought to Buteral, and when they could, they would be launched outward again.

How would they know? What would tell them they found the home they were looking for?

The role of the goddesses was to escort. They got body from the smoke and flame of the candle and soul from the stories. If the flame didn't burn to light the way and the living didn't bridge the connection with tales of life, then the dead wandered, forever seeking.

But these dead were fine, Leia thought. Home. Together, and so many. There was no getting lost. It was the living who needed help.

Lost... What did they look like to the goddesses? Were they small figures, endlessly moving? And she pictured herself, the Death Star gown billowing in the wind while she walked the shoal in the dark, while she paced the circular corridor of the _Falcon, _while she was careful to stay on the paths at Yavin and not fall into the suck sand.

She lost her way on the Death Star. She saw herself- she and Luke- he was lost too, wasn't he?- turning random corners, evading stormtroopers and trying to find their way back to... Han. And the _Falcon. _

And what about the Death Star? Leia's eyes were hypnotized by the yellow shape of the flame; it showed her things she shouldn't be able to see. Didn't the Death Star need escorting too? At least so it wouldn't haunt the living. So it wouldn't be found again.

Time, Memory and Forgiveness. There were candles in the courtyard, there was a recording booth. The three could have a body, if they still existed.

It didn't feel like they did.

But they were goddesses! They danced among the stars and wove an earth from their hands! They existed before all else, when there was nothing. And now there was nothing again. They should be able to be here.

It was the Death Star that made nothing. The Death Star took their creation, and humans built the Death Star. Not from nothing; from pieces of metal perfectly engineered.

Humans gained the power of the gods. They weren't supposed to, were they, Leia asked the god of irony and truth. Your own riddle backfired on you. Maybe you are dead, too.

Dead, or didn't exist? The Month of Flame- really, if one considered the course of human life, the flame must be eternal. Everything died. Time was life and death. And Memory was so a soul would let go the living, and Forgiveness so the living freed the dead. That's why there were three. Each needed the other.

And Leia's mind gave them form. They wore the white of day and the black of night. Below their flowing forms, trapped like from under a floor shiny and polished, was them again; faint and ghostly, neither shadow nor reflection, but full of feeling. Sadness, anger and perseverance.

She had evoked a memory of the Death Star again, hadn't she. The tapered roundness of the flame returned and Leia blinked. It was a true memory; she hadn't before consciously noted how... clean the Death Star was, how perfectly waxed and smooth the floors were, but there she was, or her reflection anyway, hers and Luke's, rippling along their feet as they fled-

And Luke shot the controls and the bridge fell away.

As quickly as that, their reflections disappeared. Before them was open air, below them a long drop. Wouldn't it be nice, Leia mused, a soft smile on her face, if they had looked like gods, Luke throwing a grappling hook, like spinning a strand from his fingers, and he and Leia had swung across the void, creators-

But all they had done was find Han. Leia frowned, because that was not all; there was Chewie and the _Falcon_, but this was a matter for humans.

Three.

The pilot, the farmer, the Princess. Time, Memory and Forgiveness.

Leia shuddered, and brought her finger to her mouth, letting her tongue salve the burn.


	52. Memory, II

Jargist looked nervous, hopeful, and torn. Leia knew full well the emotions he was experiencing. She pulled Han aside.

"I'm not bunking with him," she told Han.

"You've bunked with Luke before," Han pointed out.

"Luke is the same age and he doesn't call me Your Highness."

"I do. Don't I?"

Leia made a face. She was in no mood for games. "Not in so many words. I'm not bunking with you, either."

"That leaves Chewie then," Han pretended to think.

Leia counted to three. It was hard to give up her privacy, but considering what else she'd been asked to give up, it seemed ridiculous to value it. "Yes," she agreed finally. "I like Chewie."

"Glad to see you so egalitarian, Princess," Han said.

"I am not being egalitarian," Leia started to snap, "I am being practical. And rational, and sensible-"

"Yeah," Han said dismissively. "I got a vocabulary too. Plus," he tapped his temple, "foresight. Made all the arrangements. Kid gets the crew quarters to himself, you can have my cabin, and Chewie and me'll take turns in the hammock and the cockpit."

"Your-" Leia began.

"Yeah. Don't get any ideas."

Leia had a sudden image of a mushroom on Alderaan that, when lopped off its stem, suddenly disappeared in a puff of fungal spore. It was exactly what happened to the fragments of relief and gratitude she was about to exhibit before he spoke again, except at least the spores would grow another mushroom.

She was irked. That's why he was poking at her; prodding for a reaction. He already knew. _Don't get any ideas._ About what- him? his potential generosity, or something she would do. It wasn't the first time he had said it.

"What ideas could I possibly get, Captain?"

"Should we review the ones you have had?" Han said sarcastically.

Leia didn't like that at all. "Yes," she snapped. "Let's. Because one saved your life and the other led to you getting a job."

"You did not save my life," he grumped. "You just would have gotten me killed differently."

"But you didn't get killed. Is there something you don't want me to see? Do you think I'll steal your toothpaste? "

A corner of his mouth slid up in a smile. But he said, "A fellow can't be too careful."

"What kind of fellow opens his room and then worries someone is going to spy on him," Leia derided. "You're paranoid."

"I am not paranoid."

"Then you have something to hide," Leia accused.

It appeared she wasn't far off the mark. Han pulled something from the air. "My recipe for Mandalorian stew, alright? Don't find it. Don't go looking for it."

Leia took a big breath and closed her eyes. Usually, Dr. Renzatl had taught her, it was something else. "I know you're a private man," she told him. "I just want to know one thing or I'll sleep on the lounge couch."

"What?"

"Have you set traps?"

"Have I set tr-" He repeated puzzled, then caught her tease and smiled. "Ah, see, a paranoid man sets traps."

"Yes. If you're not paranoid, then surely I won't snoop," she said smartly, and left him to figure out her circular logic.

* * *

Jargist stayed in the crew quarters most of the trip. Even so, Leia did not practice with the target remote. The boy had a strange effect on Leia. Somehow it was important to avoid him and exist as a... presence. Not because she was the Princess; at least she didn't think so. Maybe? She had no qualms sharing space and time with Luke or Han and Chewie, and she would have been horrified if anyone brought up her manners as class distinction.

He was just a boy. Lanky and fourteen, with a permanent tooth missing and freckles covering his cheeks. When he went anywhere on Alderaan- school, store, temple- a portrait of her parents hung on the walls, sometimes hers, larger and more prominently displayed than the one of Emperor Palpatine. If he attended the opening of smashball tournaments, did he sing along to Alderaan's anthem?

He was raised within a monarchy, and he was young enough to only know the Empire. He spoke like an Alderaani. Her title flowed off his tongue naturally and he never looked her in the eye.

Planetary distinction, Leia realized. With Luke, who hailed from Tatooine, and Han, a Corellian, she felt... human, a small part of the vast and amazing galaxy. She wouldn't know them in ways they wouldn't know her, but that wasn't the case with Jargist. He felt like an intimate, only something had come between them, a barrier-

Maybe it was class distinction. Maybe Jargist was the one to employ it, to treat the Princess differently, because she was one of the highborn, and since there had never been as many of them there were even fewer now, maybe just her, and look what entrusting them with the safety of their planet had brought them-

She ate one meal with him. That was enough.

Talk was awkward, forced. Leia learned on Alderaan he had lived with both parents and had two brothers, a sister, and two pets. The family that agreed to take him in was his mother's cousin.

"She's old," Jargist said. "Or, older than Ma. Her aunt's daughter, I think."

"A cousin. That puts her in the same generation as your mother," Leia reasoned.

Jargist shrugged. "I don't remember them. They moved when I was little."

It was a strange jump in reasoning. Apparently, being a stranger meant old to Jargist, Leia discovered. It was quite possible she was very old to this fourteen year old boy's mind. Their conversation was superficial. He told her about his pet getting stuck in a nerf pen and the memory was fun. Leia only had a bird but it stayed in its cage- she didnt even know whether it was male or female- and the maidens took care of it, so she only listened to the story. She didn't tell him about the bird.

Han didn't bother her much either, which was a relief. Everyone had to enter the captain's quarters to use the 'fresher, but they knocked outside the threshold and gave her time to strike an industrious pose. His quarters consisted of a bunk and storage units. As was customary for space travel design, shelves and tables folded and bolted to the walls; Leia had unlatched a metal seat and table. She sat atop his bunk pillow for comfort and had only opened one cabinet. It wasn't bolted, so it didn't qualify as snooping. It held clothing.

* * *

Sometime during the second day- she would set her chrono when they landed; it was easier to adjust to time when you didn't keep track of how much had passed- Leia was in the cockpit with Chewie. He had quizzed her on numbers, and, satisfied with her comprehension, had started to teach her body parts in Shyriiwook.

Language had interesting subtleties that emerged without a translator. For instance, when he put two hands up to his brow, Leia figured he was teaching her the word for head, but it took Chewie sweeping his hand softly over her brow, eyes, and mouth to see that he meant face.

Han breezed in after a time to take his shift. "Left you some grub, pal."

Chewie rumbled something, and got out of his seat. Leia stood too. "Was that thanks?" she asked.

"No. You don't need to run off," Han said.

"I was just giving you your seat."

"Oh. He said something like, 'you better have', or 'you're supposed to'. 'Damn straight.' I don't know." Han slipped past her and took the captain's chair. Leia settled in Chewie's, oversized and still warm from his body heat. "Kind of a thanks, I guess."

Leia furrowed a brow. "I thought you- that you were fluent in Shyriiwook."

"Yeah," Han shrugged.

"Then why were you vague just now?"

"'Cause I knew," Han said simply. "Didn't know I'd be playin' translator."

"How did you learn it?"

"Didn't have my own tutor, like you do," he said darkly. He must have thought she was prying, because he was offensive again. It was no matter, really; Leia was only curious so let it go. Someday, she thought, she'd get that recipe for Mandalorian Stew.

"I find the language very subtle," she said. "Do you have to understand much context?"

"Yeah, and intonation. I heard you, talking about head and face. Wookiees don't really have a word for head. It's 'top of body'. The face is what's important. What they see, what they smell and touch."

"When did you learn Shyriiwook?"

She was getting too personal again. All she was asking about was a time period; it shouldn't be difficult to answer, but Han closed his lips together before saying, "I didn't really. It was always around. Something I came to understand, not learned."

"That's what Luke said," Leia nodded at Han. If she stayed in the present, they could talk, and then she realized it must be the same for her; that he might avoid asking her things for fear of upsetting her. "That for him it's not so much the lexicon as it is taking in the situation as a whole."

"I notice he didn't say that in front of me," Han was amused. "It was pretty funny when Chewie asked him how he liked being a pilot and Luke thought he was tellin' him he had a spot on his shirt."

Leia laughed. "I didn't know Luke to brag," she said.

"I dabbed some sauce on him, so he'd have something to talk about."

"Considerate of you, Captain," Leia said with an amused shake of her head.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, during which Han read gauges and pushed buttons and stole glances at her, he finally asked, "Whatcha thinking about, Princess."

Leia sighed and turned to face him. "I'm trying to remember what it was like to be fourteen."

"Wasn't too long ago, for you."

"I told you, I'm twenty."

"Yeah, and six years ain't that long ago."

"Is fourteen a long time ago for you?"

Han shrugged. "Long enough."

"What did you do at age fourteen?"

His eyes lifted to the view out the cockpit. "Pretty much what I did at twelve, or fifteen."

"Me, too. I was Senator at eighteen."

"I was in the Navy that age."

She appraised him. "I was going to guess that. At fourteen," she began to recite, "I got up at the crack of dawn. My breakfast was ready for me. The maidens drew my bath, selected what I would wear, did my hair-"

"Sounds like you didn't have to decide anything."

"That was precisely it. The maidens were to free their queen or princess, whomever they served, from daily burdens so that they wouldn't be distracted from thoughts of rule."

"Sheesh," Han said.

Leia ignored him. "I studied-" she broke off abruptly to ask him, "How long was your school day?"

"Um, long," Han said. "I have no idea."

"On Alderaan typically it was six hours of learning with an hour for play and physical movement. Mine was ten hours. Schools were closed for one month, two times a year. I had a only a week off at those times."

"Are you bragging, or whining?" Han asked. "'Cause it's not clear."

Leia smiled. When she offered the past, it was nice that he wasn't afraid to take it. "Neither. Just stating." She crossed her arms and rested her hands at her neck, allowing her chin to rest on them. "I was never really fourteen, was I. Not like Jargist." She lifted her chin to indicate the boy waiting in the crew quarters. "He talks of pets and sports. He had this... engaged, interactive life."

"Yeah," Han agreed. "Bein' a Princess and all, you were kind of eternal, weren't you."

Before Leia even had time to blink at his startling comment, he went on. "At age fourteen, I was thinking about food, I think by then sex and girls; girls, anyway, and what I could get away with."

"Started early on your outlaw path?" Leia gave him a wry eye. "Graduated from throwing rocks?"

"Oh yeah, by then I was a real scoundrel," Han winked at her.

"It's not something to wink at," she told him. "It's ... There's a lot you've said without telling me." She could sense his mood sour, and he went back to pushing buttons, so she didn't elaborate.

But she was thinking that at age fourteen, Jargist hadn't mentioned any pranks and he had given Major Klander's farewell gift of a muffin to Chewie, and it was damaged in the packing. Of course, Leia had only one meal with him, but he had given her a glimpse of his life and seemed to lead a normal one. If there was such a thing. Both hers and Han's had been quite different than Jargist's.

To get him away from his sudden glumness, Leia asked, "Are you worried about the _Falcon's _appearance in Imperial City?"

His eyes flicked out the viewport again. "No," he said casually. "More worried about your appearance. I'm taking her down one of the back-city docks. They don't look at wanted posters as much. That, and the CTC was kind enough to make me a registration for her under a different name."

Leia's mouth fell open. "You're kidding," she said. "That's illegal. A forged document?"

"Tough times, sweetheart," Han said. He was back to smug at least. "It'll come in handy."

"You're just wracking up all kinds of benefits, aren't you?" she said a little acidly. "What's the name?"

"_Under the Black Moon."_

* * *

On the _Tantive IV_ a signal would chime alerting passengers to strap in when the ship was soon to emerge from hyperspace. Han delivered the message personally. Leia heard him knock on the wall outside the crew quarters.

"Coming out of hyper, kid," he called out. "Landing in about twenty minutes."

"Can I watch?" Leia heard Jargist ask.

"Uh, sure." Without seeing him, Leia knew he had put a hand to the back of his neck, and she smiled. She decided to gather with all of them in the cockpit.

Coruscant was not an attractive planet from space. It was a featureless grayish orb, covered with a haze. It was the first time Jargist alluded to the destruction.

"I did what you said, Your Highness," he began.

"Oh?" Leia was trying to remember what she had said.

"Yeah," Jargist said, his eyes cast downward as they were much of the time. "I decided who I'd want."

"You did," Leia said, stalling. "Who, then?"

"For us. The," Jargist spread his hands, "the, you know. The living."

"Oh!" Leia remembered. "The goddesses." Yes, she attempted to put a positive spin on the fact that Alderaani tradition would have to be broken, and encouraged Jargist to come up with his own interpretation of the tradition.

"I kept my candle," he told the group. "I figure I can light it for emergencies, like this was."

Leia's stomach was cold or clenching, either one. Her body always reacted. She lifted her chin.

Jargist was going on, "I hear service in Imperial City is spotty."

"It is," Han affirmed, and Chewie added a bark of agreement.

Leia looked at the back of Han's head. Sometimes, it just mattered they happened to be around when she felt like fleeing.

"The goddess Discord," Jargist said. "Because she represents catastrophes. I looked her up. And Hearth."

Hearth, Leia thought, gods yes. "It's perfect," she said.

"That's only two, though," Jargist said. "Do you think there should be three?"

Because three went with the dead. Leia inhaled. She wasn't sure, and it had been a long time since she studied the realms of the goddesses and their symbolism in depth.

"The living are different than the dead," she said. "Wisdom, perhaps."

"I thought of her," Jargist said. "But I wasn't sure. She's like," he squirmed where he stood, suddenly uncomfortable to voice an atraditional thought, "a lesser goddess. I know she's not," he added hastily before Leia could correct him, "but maybe she should be. Because we didn't have wisdom then and I don't know we ever will."

No one said anything. Leia thought if she moved she would shatter.

Finally, Chewie rumbled something and Han cleared his throat. "He said, maybe if you ask her to go it'll become more important."


	53. Discord

Of course it wouldn't do to walk around Imperial City in the uniform of the Rebel Alliance. Nor would wearing the robes of a former Senator, but Leia only had her uniform or the Death Star gown.

She stood in Han's cabin, considering what to do. They could invite Jargist's mother's cousin to come to the docking pad, and Leia could just stay on board, and fulfill her promise to escort Jargist without leaving the ship.

She lifted her chin at the thought, as if the empty room had issued a dare. She wasn't going to risk immediate arrest by wearing the garb of a perceived terrorist, but nor was she going to hide. She opened the one cabinet Han had left unlatched, and rummaged within.

Han had permitted her his clothing before. On the way to Yavin, both she and Luke had done their best to clean the only set of clothes they owned before landing, and Han had said they could put on something of his own while theirs dried.

His attitude about it was very casual, familiar. How often did he lend out his clothes, she wondered.

She'd borrowed a charcoal gray, long-sleeved shirt; the colors seemed apt and she didn't want to see her own skin.

Luke must have made use of Han's cabinet again for the medal ceremony, she suddenly realized, picturing him at the back of the room before beginning to march down the aisle toward her. It made her smile slightly. There she'd been, in John Bannon's room, standing like a mannequin while droids altered Mon Mothma's gown to fit her, while Luke...

She could feel through the memory of the event how excited he was. He'd wanted to look nice. Presentable. Not like the farm boy from Tatooine. And so he remade himself out of Han's clothes. Yes. The yellow jacket; black shirt; high, polished boots; and the brown pants with the blood stripe down the sides. Obviously Han's. The beaming smile and the lightsaber- now those were all Luke.

Leia smiled again. At least he had something else to wear on his days off. She turned her attention back to herself.

Her trousers, she decided, were just that. Straight leg, bland tan color, crisp seam, pockets at the rear and front. There was no piping, no design, nothing to indicate they were part of a uniform. Simple and nondescript. They would suffice.

She found the gray plain-weave she wore before and slipped it over her head. It had a ribbed collar that hugged the neck- a man's neck; on her it was wide and loose- she felt sure Han had abandoned it because he found it confining. It was light weight but of a structured fabric, so it didn't just hang on her. The hem came down to her thighs. She thought she ought to give the outfit a quirk, so rummaged some more and came out with red boot socks. They were longer than her calf and would stick out over her boots and cover where the pants slid in.

She stood on one heel at a time and tapped her toes, a test. This would do. She was not making a statement. The hairstyle would do that. She wandered into the 'fresher.

She had paid tribute to the destruction when greeting homeworlders by styling her hair after the goddess of Loss. It seemed now something other was called for, and she stood a long moment, thinking of her role, and her mother, and the situation at large.

Discord? she asked her image in the reflector. Jargist's chosen goddess? She was one of the twelve who wove a planet from her fingers. The birth of a planet seemed the opposite of chaos, but yet there Discord was, dancing with her sisters, a part of creation.

Perhaps creation _was_ chaos. Catastrophe was an assignation; an acknowledgement of not just damage, but a sudden and unalterable change.

Damage was how the mortals viewed it. And Leia knit her brows and moved her eyes away from the reflection of her own face; she was on the verge of seeing, of understanding.

Mortals and the divine, the finite and the eternal. Creation and destruction were the same thing. Goddesses shouldn't hurt, or feel pain. They did only when filtered through the lens of a mortal's eye.

And mortals held the myths. Leia blinked, and returned to the reflector, a little disappointed. That was nothing new. Even in the great scope of this galactic civil war, it was humans who made it. It made her wonder how many of the goddesses had been real.

Destruction was creation, and it was left to Leia to be the architect. She would like for the ending to be _and Alderaan was made again_, but that didn't seem possible. The best she could hope for right now, as much as she could see into the future, was _and the hearts of the people were soothed._

Her hair was very long, past her lower back. Sometimes it seemed too much; why so long when it only got hidden away. But today it was like a blank canvas, and she was glad to have it.

Leia sectioned off her hair. A horizontal line of braid would start a few inches down from the top of her head, where the rim of the queen's crown sat; the topmost hair would be simply brushed back, smooth. Below the line she gathered varying thicknesses of strands for braids, and didn't follow a pattern. She plaited; finite and definite, and she wove; intertwined and random. Loss, Memory and Harvest at the top; Time, Discord and Wisdom throughout.

Before heading to the lounge, she picked up the files she would hand over to Jargist's cousin. Han and Jargist talking were talking.

"... worst already happened, right?"

"I guess so."

"So how bad could it be?"

A Solo pep talk, Leia thought. She slowed her steps, to listen.

"Even if, oh, I don't know," Han's imagination posed, "they lock you in a room and never let you out and beat you-"

Leia's brows raised.

"That's a bit much," Jargist also sounded surprised.

"But is it worse," Han said.

"Um," Jargist said, and Leia decided to interrupt them.

"Han," she said. "He's fourteen."

Jargist flushed and averted his eyes, and Leia saw he was at that awkward time when he didn't want to be a boy but neither did he want to be a man. "It's okay to be nervous, Jargist," she told him. "I think what Captain Solo is trying to say is that it's important to get past what makes you nervous. Like swimming. You have to jump in to get wet."

Jargist nodded.

Leia reached out and touched his shoulder, briefly. She didn't know what to say. _You'll be fine_ sounded empty and patronizing, and it might not be true. Jargist was fortunate, but what brought him here was awful. "It's okay to be nervous," she said again.

Han palmed the rampway. "Ready?"

Sometimes he called for all her diplomacy. Leia was aware of Jargist, and she bit her tongue. She simply arched a brow. "You're coming?"

He answered her unspoken challenge. "Yeah."

"Stretching your legs?" Leia kept her brow up.

"That," Han allowed, "and I haven't seen the city in a while."

"In that case," Leia granted, "have a nice time. I'll be with Jargist, and then I have some errands I want to complete."

Han sucked in a cheek. "S'okay if I see you off, kid?"

Jargist was aware he was in the middle of something, but didn't know how to handle it. He hefted a satchel over his shoulder, some clothes donated by the CTC, and shrugged. "I guess."

Han's eyes flashed at Leia. "Let's be off, then," and he disembarked his ship.

"Are we in danger?" Jargist asked Leia as they made their way down the ramp.

She wanted to touch him again but something held her back. Touch didn't seem part of the destruction of Alderaan; at least, not many had used it on her. "No," she said. "Captain Solo is just being cautious. The only beings here who know we came are your cousin's family."

Han had chosen a docking authority on the outskirts of the city, and they rode a crowded public shuttle. Their fellow riders paid little attention to them, but Leia took in each passenger, identifying only three life forms not human. She imagined telling her father, and knew the description would make him sorry. In the days of the Old Republic Coruscant was a hub of trade and commerce, teeming with all kinds of life forms, but Palpatine's empire was based on human superiority. Beings were now classified as to how they could best serve humans, and the active diversity of cultures in the city was now glaringly absent.

How quickly it happened, Leia thought. Even as a child, visiting the old city with a new name, there were different foods to try, a medley of languages to hear. Her family apartment had been located in the government district, but there had been neighborhoods where beings from the same planet clustered. Alderaan had one, Leia knew; Corellia's was large. Little Rodia was a bit of a tourist attraction because it replicated the homeland jungles.

Cranes dotted the rooftops as buildings continued to grow higher. The reflection of the shuttle rippled across the walls of windows that characterized Imperial City architecture. Jargist's new home had windows that arced in a semi-circle. His cousin did not live where Leia's memory told her the Alderaani neighborhood was located. The residence was on the one hundred tenth level; not as high as the prosperous, but not low enough to be considered underlife.

The shuttle depot was on the seventy-fifth level. They rode the tube lift up and Leia clenched her jaw and looked fierce. Her fisted hands were the only outward signs of anxiety over the tight space, but neither Jargist nor Han seemed to notice. She was glad they couldn't hear her heart hammering in her chest.

The three were silent the whole way.

Leia nudged Jargist as the door asked for identification.

"I'm Jargist," he said nervously. "Aunt Cassie's son."

Leia melted a bit. His mother was known in his family as Aunt Cassie, like Breha was the Queen. She gave him a nod. She was angry the door was closed. The receiving family had been notified of their arrival time. "You're strong," she told Jargist.

They couldn't hear anything through the door. Either the family was deep within the apartment and needed time to reach the entry foyer, or they were staring silently at the video feed of the three standing on the other side.

"I wonder if they have any pets," Jargist remarked.

Finally, the door slid to the side, but an inner one, transparent, prevented them from entering. A woman stood on the other side. Leia's gaze was drawn to the wide streak of hair dyed blue along the center of her head; it disappeared into a mound of dark bun. The eyes were as expected, brown. The woman was in her late forties, stout, and of medium height. She wore a long navy blue tunic that went down to her feet. Gold embroidery framed the sides of her torso, and the waist was tailored.

How did her visitors appear, Leia wondered; Jargist stood in his student tunic, Leia with all her braids and the high red socks, and Han wore the blaster slung at his thigh. The woman made no motion to open the second door.

She used the intercom, looking between the three strangers as if she couldn't tell who she was looking for. "Yes?" Her eyes settled on the boy.

"We're not takeout delivery, lady," Han growled.

"Han," Leia said quietly, though she felt the same resentment. She tried to sound pleasant. "We've come from Buteral," she said. "You're expecting us. Jargist is here."

Jargist answered like a student. Poor boy, Leia thought. He had told her that though they were family, they were strangers to him. He raised his forearm. "That's me," he said.

"May we come in?" Leia said. "Jargist has come a long way, and he's been through a lot-"

"Yes," the woman said. "We all have."

Leia put some steel in her voice. "And I'm not about to drop him in Imperial City without making sure he's in a safe place."

"Of course," the woman nodded. The door panel slid back. "Of course. Where are my manners? Come in. Welcome, Jargist. I'm your cousin, Danneria. We've met before, when you were very little. Do you remember?"

"No," Jargist answered.

"I don't expect you would." The woman finally made a small smile. "You were very young."

It felt like ages since Leia had been in a home. Her first time Since, she thought. So many firsts.

Was this what frightened Jargist's cousin Danneria? Was it facing the tragedy head on, or was there more to it?

Along the wall that separated foyer from passageway Leia saw empty crates stacked carefully. She drew Han in and introduced him. "This is Captain Solo."

The woman merely nodded. She didn't ask for Leia's name, and Jargist looked at Leia questioningly. She signaled him to be quiet with a small shake of her head.

"We'll sit in here," Danneria said and led them to a formal sitting area.

Danneria gestured for them to take a seat. It was tastefully decorated in Alderaani style, Leia noted. A tapestry hung from a rod and covered most of one wall. There were wooden Thought Bowls, and a candle, much larger than any that were used on Buteral, rested on a ceramic plate on a high, narrow table. Its wick was blackened, and Leia realized Imperial City was probably the first to learn the news. The first thirty days had passed a while ago here.

The arched windows started at the floor and graced most of the high wall. Speeder traffic outside zipped by, and Leia was reminded of watching fish swim in a tank. Leia and Jargist sat together on a sofa while Han took a seat by himself. He did not make himself comfortable. Whatever his motivations were, Leia found she did not mind he was here, and met his eyes briefly.

Danneria offered them refreshment, which they all declined.

"This is a lovely apartment," Leia said, looking around. "Have you lived here long?"

"Actually only about two months," Danneria answered. "Thank you. I feel like we've finally finished unpacking."

"I wondered," Leia said. "I figured you probably lived in the A-D district."

"We did. Are you familiar with Imperial City, then?"

"Somewhat." Leia kept it vague. "How long have you lived offplanet?"

"Oh," the woman sighed. Her eyes raised to the ceiling as she calculated. "Let's see. My eldest was three, about. Fifteen years, then. She looked apologetically at Leia. "A long time."

Jargist could no longer contain himself. In a tone of hurt, he gestured at Leia and spoke to his older cousin. "Don't you recognize her?" Danneria looked at him. "It's the Princess!"

The woman's mouth dropped open. "Princess Leia?" she said. "I thought- we heard-" she struggled. "By the goddesses." She jumped to her feet, turned in place, and then prepared to bow. "Your clothing-"

Leia put out a hand to stop her. "Did you not expect me?"

"No, Your Highness, no. They said only someone would accompany Jargist." Her eyes moved to him quickly and then back to Leia. "I had no idea you were- that's why I didn't recognize you- that is, I am sure it was reported that you were- that you did not survive."

"The reports were mistaken." Leia was angry again, not at Danneria but something. The misuse of so many lives. And she couldn't get over the blue stripe in her hair and wondered where the fashion originated.

She decided to pursue a course the woman couldn't deny. "Danneria," she spoke carefully, "thank you for being here for Jargist. Our lives, those of us who lived on Alderaan," it felt important to stress the difference between Danneria and Jargist, "are- altered. Drastically so. I don't know how long it's been since you last visited-"

"Last fete season." Danneria finally looked moved, like she would cry. "I can't believe it's true. So hard, when we're here, going about our day to day lives. I didn't even visit Cassie," she told Jargist. "I saw Grandmama."

Jargist's only response was to nod.

Han leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. "You really thought she was dead? The Princess? You didn't see what they're doing with the refugees, bringin' em' to Buteral?"

"We heard of Buteral, of course. Someone contacted me from there-"

"Carlist Rieekan," Leia put in.

"Yes. Rieekan. But-" Danneria looked thoughtful. "The Emperor has told us- he said he would enfold us into the Empire."

Han snorted, and muttered something to himself. Leia thought she heard the words "cake batter." Everyone looked at him, but no one commented.

"Buteral is an effort by the Core Treaty Consortium," Leia said. She decided to skip mention of the Alliance. "The Emperor has not contributed to it." She glanced at the candle. "How did you hear?"

Danneria wore an expression of intense concentration. She chewed first on her upper lip, and then her lower, before she said, "It's been... we only have the Imperial News Network, you know. The first I knew, Chandrila denounced it. That's it! There was no confirmation or denial, no evidence. And we were all..." She shook her head. "And then travelers. With holos, but it just looked like a section of space, you know, there was nothing familiar. It was almost like Chandrila had dreamed it, or we had, or there was an evil-" She broke off, and took a breath. "The Emperor finally made an announcement." Danneria laughed harshly. "It wasn't even the top story that night. It was one week after Chandrila's condemnation."

"What else has been reported?" Leia asked.

"That... It's confusing. That Alderaan was destroyed when terrorists seized an Imperial battle station. The Emperor has declared a," Danneria waved a hand, "he calls it a war, but it's self-styled. A war against terrorism. Like the war against the Jedi was.

"I realize, while the INN is the largest, it's also from one perspective," Danneria said.

Leia nodded. "Odd to think, isn't it," she said, "that you live in the same city as the Emperor and yet you know less than any citizen living elsewhere."

"Sometimes, when I hear a report, I have more questions when it is over. For instance, I still wonder how. How? How can terrorists do that?"

"I am Alderaan's Princess," Leia said. "I hope you trust the information I have. The Imperial battle station was what destroyed our planet; the technology was developed by the Empire. A battle followed, and an opposition calling itself the Alliance for the New Republic declared war, and were able to destroy the battle station. It was called the Death Star."

"So it's..." Danneria nodded to herself. "That's why," she said.

"What's why," Leia said.

Danneria shook her head. "Nothing."

"It's a civil war," Leia reported. "Many systems have joined the Alliance in open revolt against the Empire. "Naboo, Corellia, Chandrila, Duros, Sullust," she named the larger powers, "among others."

She gave Danneria time to absorb the impact of the information, and then asked, "How is it here? As Alderaani, how is it? Are you feeling..." Leia hesitated a moment before forging on. "...any type of persecution? Are you allowed to express your anger and grief?"

"Yes." Danneria looked slightly heartened. "Emperor Palpatine ordered a thirty day flame in the public park. Most everybody is sympathetic." She tucked her lips over her teeth. "Of course, there's always some to fan the flames. My sons, in school- somebody told one Alderaan had asked for it."

Leia sat ramrod straight. Inside, she felt funny: nauseous and fluttery. "Alderaan did not ask for it," she said evenly.

"Of course not! My gods, to suggest such a thing," Danneria wrung her hands. "That's what I told my son."

"There was a reason you moved," Leia knew there had to be more to the story, "wasn't there."

"Well, it was sug- that is-"

"Lady, we aren't going to report you," Han broke in. "Stop bein' so scared." Leia looked at him. His eyes were dark.

Danneria licked her lips. "It was... a new directive. All of a sudden the Emperor declared a diversification of the population. Cultural districts were to be disbanded. A-D was the first. We were all sent two thousand five hundred credits to help in relocating."

"I hate to tell you this," Han finally sat back, as if he had been awaiting proof of the weakness of humans and finally had it. His hand dangled, relaxed, over the chair's arm. "You took a bribe," Han said.

"Han," Leia warned.

"No," Danneria objected. "No. We - we just did what the city said to do."

"And what if you didn't?" Han said.

"Why, I don't know."

"You're scared."

"No!" Danneria tried to deny again. "I'm sure it's- They say Corellia comes next, after the A-D buildings are updated."

"Yeah, Palpatine hates Corellians too. Only reason they outnumber Alderaani in the Alliance is because there aren't that many Alderaani left."

"How can you say that?" Danneria said to Han. Her eyes beseeched Leia for help.

But Leia wasn't going to ask Han to stop. It wasn't up to her. And it seemed the cut of his words needed to bring Danneria out of the blinders she had allowed the Empire to set on her way of thinking.

Han shrugged. "I'm being honest. Palpatine bombed us but that only killed a few thousand. It was a while ago too, so the population is back up."

He was pointedly unpleasant, and Danneria reacted with tears and offense, her voice high, making her sound like a child. She berated Han, first about his rudeness, and threatened to call the CTC for undue pressure, but then other things got mixed in. The move, INN, the credits, Carlist Rieekan: it seemed Danneria's confusion, grief and fear just poured out of her, what she had bottled up in the months Since.

Leia checked to see that Jargist wasn't too alarmed by the direction of their conversation. He was following intently, but didn't seem frightened at all. He already knew the truth, that was why, she thought.

She took in the furniture until Danneria's outburst subsided. The Thought Bowls were lovely. One was a porcelain, the other a turned wood, a streak of azurine added somehow. She got up to look, and sure enough, the tokens were set on a tray beside it. Leia submitted a token to the bottom of the wooden bowl. She crooked a finger at Jargist for him to join her.

"This is your new home," she murmured underneath Danneria's wails. "Tell it something."

Thought Bowls were an old tradition, but they were only used on special occasions now. A birthday saw numerous thoughts and good wishes dropped into the bottom of the bowl, and during the Fete season it was the practice to add one for each day of the season.

Jargist didn't pause long at all. He added two. Then he sighed.

Leia liked that he added two. It was considered impolite to ask what a thought was, but two indicated a depth of character that might help Danneria, once Han departed with his rudeness.

Leia's thought was a wish for clarity. Jargist's could have invited Discord and Hearth into the home. That wouldn't surprise her. Or maybe one thought was how he hated to be here, but the other was how glad he was.

"Jargist will be a wonderful addition to your family," Leia said as both she and he returned to the couch.

Danneria was calm again. Her eyes were puffy, while Han's had turned back to a dark green. "We are glad to bring him into ours," she said.

"There is a need," Leia said. "Quite a few orphaned children. Is there more to your family?"

"Oh, yes." Danneria arranged her hands in her lap. "I- you'll have cousins, Jargist. They are at school presently. Three. Boys," she tried to smile at him. "Ages fifteen to eighteen."

"Do they like smashball?" Leia asked.

Danneria smile reached her eyes. "They love it. Who doesn't? Two play in a league. We can get you registered," she told the boy, "next season."

Jargist nodded again. He looked miserable. Had he said anything?

"What were you wondering, Jargist?" Leia prompted him.

"Your Highness?" He blinked at her, unwilling to be drawn into the conversation.

"Outside?"

"About pets," Han put in.

"Oh, yes." Leia turned to Danneria.

"I had pets," Jargist mentioned, and flushed. "Long-haired virtins."

Danneria smiled. "A virtin," she said nostalgically. "We had one, but it died two years ago. We could get another. That might be nice. Provided you help care for it."

"That will be nice for you, Jargist," Leia encouraged. He nodded again.

Leia sighed at him. In a way, she hated to leave him, but knew it was for the best. "He'll need some more things," she indicated the small bag at his feet. "And I have some items of administration for you," she told Danneria. "We've set up a reparations fund in his name-"

"A reparations fund?"

"I have IDIT compensating families for their investment in the Bank of Alderaan, which of course is now ashes. You will receive an allowance for Jargist's care, and the rest is a trust to be managed by a financial officer until Jargist is of age."

"Alright." Danneria took the offered data boards and rested them on her lap. She didn't look like she understood.

"And there are some medical files, with provided references for continued care." Leia looked at Jargist. "I'm sure you know the situation. Jargist was with his school group. They've received a full checkup, ensuring their physical and emotional well-being. You can expect a follow-up visit."

"Will it be you, Your Highness?" Jargist asked.

"Probably not, Jargist," she answered, and felt a genuine sadness, both for her and the boy, for the whole condition of the galaxy. But he would make new connections, she knew, and only wished for her because right now everything else was strange.

"Why don't I show you around, Jargist?" Danneria suggested.

Han got up and stood at the high arched window, and Leia sat on the sofa. It was time to hand Jargist off. He would go to school, play smashball, pet a virtin. He would get new shoes, clothes, bedding. This was his home now, his sofa.

Leia joined Han at the window. He gave her a long look, but he didn't say anything, and when he'd seen enough or gotten bored, his gaze returned to the outside.

The tour of the apartment didn't take long. "... and maybe we'll host a gathering," Danneria was saying, "introduce you to everyone." She and Jargsit stopped by the long, narrow table holding the Thought Bowls. Danneria's smile was forced, like she was ready for Han and Leia to leave.

"Danneria," Leia said, and stopped.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

Leia didn't know how to say it. Danneria wasn't a coward, not really, but she'd never been challenged. Still, Leia felt it was no excuse. "I want to return to what we were talking about earlier. How there is evidence the truth is subverted here. I cannot leave without... I must ask you to rise above. Our planet is dead." Her voice trembled with fervor. "Please don't be- this is not the time to be afraid. You have a voice. We owe it to Alderaan to speak the truth. If it kills us, it is no different than what happened to our loved ones, is it?"

Jargist spoke, his eyes clued in on Han. "The worst is over, right? Is that what you meant, Captain Solo? Even if they lock us in a room and beat us, you meant the Empire."

"Sure," Han said easily, but Leia could tell by the fleeting glance he shot her he hadn't meant that at all.

Goddesses were dual natured, Leia had to remind herself as she left. Creation was destruction. And she was the Princess of Alderaan. Discord and Hearth. She'd thought her purpose was to gather her people, bring them safety and comfort. But as her halting words to Danneria formed a request, she heard herself ask her people to risk their lives for Alderaan.

_May the goddesses grant me clarity, _she prayed.


	54. Touch

Her legs felt tight, the muscles fatigued, but all she'd done was sit on a sofa. Leia pushed herself, determined to keep Han behind her so they wouldn't have to talk.

She didn't want to hear anything from him; he would point out the pervasive mantle of misperception Emperor Palpatine laid over Imperial City, but he didn't have to, not to her; it was so thick she almost couldn't breathe here.

And the damn lift tube. Why was she always stuck with him and a lift tube? She sought a sensible excuse to go alone while jabbing the ready button with her finger, and got mad at herself for being so ridiculous.

They were the only ones in it. Leia started to tremble a little, and gulped some air, forcing herself to think of Jargist a floor below, then two, five...

"You need something to eat, Highness?" Han had given her a glance but was watching the floor numbers shift when he spoke.

Leia lashed out, "Put any thoughts of vacation aside, Captain." She refused to move her head up or to the side to see his face, but by rolling her eyes a little she saw he reacted with just his eyes, closing the lids over them a little longer than a blink.

Ten floors...

"You look a little shaky is all." He was frank. There was no tenderness, no accusation.

Fifteen...

Alderaan was gone. Leia thought of the men. Jargist, her father, Lennist.

Eighteen...

"I don't like small spaces," Leia said, moving her lips as little as possible.

"Since when?" Han asked.

"Since."

Twenty-two...

He nodded. "Makes sense."

Her exhale was lengthy. She forced herself to take as long with the inhale, and found she could control the trembling. "No it doesn't," she snapped. "It's completely irrational."

The lift tube would climb thirty-five floors. Ten more to go. He had smiled a little.

"It's called an aspect," she bit out.

"Thought is was claustrophobia."

"It's not." She listened to herself- had she just lied? It felt the truth, but she would rank it as one of the stupidest answers she'd ever given, since she was a child. Was a lie a denial of truth, or was her irrationality spreading, like a disease.

Five floors and Jargist would soon leave her thoughts, like John Bannon had so quickly before.

"At least this tube is fast," Han said. "Been in some that just crawl."

Two floors left. Leia didn't answer. She held her breath, and when the door slid open marched two steps out and stopped. There was another door to exit the building.

It smelled like a city. Not fresh air. It smelled of metal, exhaust and trash. Babies, meals and detergent.

Leia hadn't minded living here. It was so different than her main residence on Alderaan, Aldera. There, it smelled like rain and mountains, nerf pastures, and fires in the hearth. Imperial City had an energy, an excitement. Being away from either meant returning was a special thing.

She was furious at the city. Despite all its energy, despite the range and variety of culture, it was no better than the rest.

"I'm going to walk a while," she dismissed Han. "I know how to get back."

"I'm stretching my legs, remember?"

"I don't want company."

"Fine." But he was strolling on along, lagging behind while her pace raced.

The pedestrian walkways branched out along buildings or across the skyway. Railings of duroglass kept walkers safe but were otherwise open air. Leia stopped after a few blocks and whirled on him. "Why are you with me?"

He looked innocent. "With you? Why, I'm headed for A-C district. There's a bakery, makes the best baningka. Where are you going?"

Damn his glibness, she thought. "It's probably out of business."

"Probably," Han agreed.

"Look at the city," Leia glared at her surroundings. "It's a shadow of what it was." It was too bad attitudes and prejudice didn't have an economical impact, Leia thought.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"And if you think you are on assignment," Leia threatened. "Your duty is to the CTC, as pilot. Your job is finished. So if Rieekan has asked you"- it sounded so rude, to just use his last name- "to keep an eye on me-"

"Look, Highness. Leia, alright? I'm not followin' you, and I'm not keepin' an eye on you. I'd like to walk, and may I walk with you?"

That stopped Leia a second. "You're asking?"

"Yeah, and I want a baningka. If the bakery is still in business."

If he was telling the truth, it would be silly to not let him accompany her. She didn't think he was, and she was reminded of Luke's earlier description, Han was a part-time con man. Still, she couldn't see it would cost her anything.

She wanted to walk so she could think. She was shaken, and unsure why. The feeling had come upon her before she left Danneria's apartment. Did it stem from the significance of leaving Jargist, Danneria's frightened apathy, or Leia's call for activism? Walking would give her time to review what she'd heard, learned and felt. Walking was movement, maybe even progress.

She cocked an eye at Han, guessing his motivations, and he was grinning at her in that irritating way like he was having fun when he shouldn't be. "How much time do we have?"

"Few hours. We can play tourist."

"I was never a tourist. The bakery is in the Corellian district?" She resumed walking and he was beside her.

"Yeah. Where are you headed?"

"The financial district."

He didn't ask why, but he did assume, "One of your errands."

Leia remained tight-lipped. She was surprised he had made note of her earlier comment on the ship. "Yes."

He didn't press it. "What kind of baningka do you like?"

"That's a pastry, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have a sweet tooth, Captain?"

He looked down at her face, eyes just brown but amused. "What makes you think so?"

"You made that compote. And you said- at least I thought I heard so- you muttered 'cake batter' up in the apartment."

His laugh tried to cover up some embarrassment. It was charming. "I was reading recipes for it," he told her. "What she said, about the Emperor, it reminded me of a baking direction."

"Folding in ingredients," Leia knew what he meant. "To blend them." It made her shiver.

They turned right into a walkway that crossed the speeder lanes. Traffic zipped above and below them. Leia thought about her father and the speeder he transported from Alderaan with the rest of his luggage. He had always liked the open air.

"Did you live here?" she asked Han. "Is that how you know the bakery?"

"No." He shuddered a little. "This," his hand gestured out at the city, "don't make you claustrophobic?"

Her smile was grim. "It's not a tight space."

"Is to me."

"I spent the season here. Every year, since I was twelve. My father was a career politician. My family had an apartment in the government district."

Han looked puzzled. "What season? It's always the same here. "

"That's a difference between you and me, Captain. You think in terms of planets and I think in terms of society. When the Senate was in session. That was the Season. Part-time residents. The symphony played its highlights, the museums opened grand exhibits, productions debuted on stage, restaurants burst with diners. It lasted six weeks."

"There's no season for spice," Han said. "Year round."

"You were a frequent traveler here, then? Smuggling for Jabba the Hutt?"

"Yeah. Big market. There was another guy, though, frequent guest of Jabba's. He'd give me a side job." Han lowered his gaze to meet her eyes, gauge her reaction. "Ancient relics."

Leia sidestepped a woman steering a repulsor carriage. A baby's legs kicked inside it. "I'm not surprised," she said. "Palpatine is a big collector."

"Stupid fashion."

The simplicity of his statement amused her. As an outsider, both of the law and society, Han was a witness to human's envious nature, and she found it interesting it compelled him to remain on the outside.

After walking in silence for a time, Han said, "Think Jargist will do okay with Danneria?"

Leia sighed, bitter disappointment rising again like bile. "I have a feeling she's not too different than many others in the city."

"She talked more scared than apathetic," Han defended her. "It's likely they are watched."

"I was watched," Leia said.

"Yeah, well. You've been gearing up for this- not the destruction, but resistance- for how long?"

Leia nodded. She saw now possibly it was her whole childhood. "I told you he was fourteen. Jargist."

"You did."

"And he's so intelligent. He could take over as leader of a movement here, and accomplish so much, if I fostered him. Instead, I will leave him, and Jargist will play smashball, and go back to school and make friends and learn to like baningka. And soon, things will start to fade."

"I don't know about that," Han said. "Take Luke, for example. He still gets fired up."

"Luke's not a politician. He gets fired up for other reasons." _Her _reasons, and General Kenobi's, and hers had caused the murders of his aunt and uncle and Kenobi's had resulted in his own slaying.

Han continued, "And there's people where I'm from that haven't forgotten the bombing. It was a long time ago, but they don't just visit the park. They raise their kids to join the Alliance."

His face was serious like she hadn't quite seen it yet. "Do you remember it?"

"That's what I'm telling you. The whole planet does. Even ones who weren't born."

Leia looked around. They were in district A-C, the Corellian neighborhood. It was crowded in the walkway now, and out the paneled duroglass railing Leia saw the district spanned at least four buildings on either side. Banners flew out windows in writing she couldn't read, in all about ten stories of building. It looked active, a healthy, viable neighborhood.

"But how many are potential Jargists?" Leia said.

"Not everybody has a Viceroy for a father," Han said.

Leia scowled.

"I'm not insulting you this time," he insisted. "You gotta admit, I have a point. It's hard to rise above, whether it's how much money you got, or what your government sets out for you. You started at the top. Look, I found a bakery. Do you want a baningka or not?"

"No, thank you." The sudden desire for a baningka was made up, Leia decided. He had said _a _bakery; he'd spoken off the cuff, as usual, and only hoped his excuse could become a reality. They headed toward it.

"We could check out the A-D district if you like. See what's become of it. You might find a grill still open." They emerged out into open air, along a pedestrian sidewalk that hugged a building's side one hundred twenty-two stories up. Leia held her elbows; it was windy up here.

She declined his offer. "It's gone."

"I know nerf were all over your planet, but they're domesticated lots of other places. You could still get nerf."

"Nerf on Alderaan grazed on a certain grass that was supposed to have given their meat that special flavor." Leia shook her head. "It can't be replicated."

"Damn close, though."

"No. It's gone. I won't take a substitute."

"Suit yourself. I'll just be a second."

"I'll wait out here," she told him with a small smile. "Make sure no one has alerted the authorities to your presence."

"It'll be me, won't it. They all think you're dead." He winked at her. "The glass is blaster proof, in case you try and shoot it."

Leia people watched as she waited. Again, it was mostly humans. She did see a few Wookiee, which surprised her. Corellians, if all these were, varied quite a bit in height and body type. The fashion was clean-shaven men; the women showed their arms. Interesting. Quite a few looked her in the eye, and she wondered if Han's gray shirt bespoke a cultural allegiance. But no one gave her a second glance.

She thought about what Han said. _They all think you're__ dead_. It was disconcerting. But she'd gotten her wish, the one where she moved freely, bitterly so; it was the maidens who signaled her identity. And wishes were no longer idle, indulgent things. She needed to learn to make good use of it.

Han emerged, carrying a sack. "Got one for you for later. And a meat pastry for Chewie. He'd be pissed if I didn't bring him back something."

"Have you checked in with him?"

"Yeah. Nothing goin' on."

Leia was still thinking about her presence here on the planet. "I've been dealing with IDIT," she said, watching Han pull a large pastry from the sack. It was covered in powdered sugar and he gave it a shake. He held it out to her, another chance offer, and she shook her head. "They're based here, and they know I'm alive."

Han licked sugar off his finger. "So?"

"So... why haven't they said anything?"

"Why don't you ask them? Think I know, anyway. That's your destination in the financial district?"

"Yes. I was only going to..." Leia had to think about it, because she didn't really know why she wanted to go. She thought it might be a form of touch. "... express my gratitude, for the work they've done so far. After the initial contact, it's been fairly painless. That's important to me. And while the money doesn't change things, for the adults it is a source of comfort. Like giving a child a blanket after a house fire."

He nodded. He was in between bites. And hungry, Leia figured, since the pastry was already almost gone. "You got an appointment?"

"No," Leia answered. Somehow it seemed funny Han would value a formality.

"And you want to get to the top."

"I do, yes. Now."

He pursed his lips. "I can help with that, if you want."

Leia took a breath and held it a moment. "If it doesn't involve shooting or hostages."

He smiled. "I know how to read a room. Might help to bring a dozen baningka. Executives like gifts."

Despite herself, Leia grinned. There was powdered sugar on his upper lip and she wanted to wipe it off. Instead, she said, "Was the baningka as good as you remember?"

"Nothing ever is."

* * *

IDIT occupied two stories, and the executive offices were on the second level. Leia approached the receiving droid and asked for the Chairman.

It asked the same thing Han had. "Have you an appointment?"

"No."

"The Chairman is in a meeting."

"May I write a message?" Leia asked politely.

"Certainly." The droid handed her a blank data board.

Leia tapped out, _Princess Leia of Alderaan will be speaking to the press. _She and Han had debated what the best way to get their attention was. Han's method was to focus on the finance part of her dealings with IDIT, but Leia figured truth also needed action. "Hand this to him, please. Interrupt his meeting. He'll want to see this."

The droid read it, aimed its photoreceptors at Leia, and read it again. Then it called someone from a back room. A human came out and read it. She approached Leia, who thought, here was an executive. Efficient and business like, little wrinkles above her lip revealing how often she pursed them.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I thought it rather plain," Leia said.

The woman's eyes raked Leia's appearance. "Who are you?"

Leia smiled. "I may be reduced to borrowing clothing, but I assure you, nothing has reduced my capacity to serve my people as the Princess of Alderaan. I am Leia Organa. And I only have a moment; my companion is waiting outside for me. I'd appreciate it if you show me into the Chairman's meeting."

The lips pursed is distaste. "This is highly irregular."

"Of course it is," Leia smiled.

The woman left her after muttering, "one moment", but was back probably as quickly as it took the Chairman to read the card. Leia was ushered in.

The conference table had a dozen conform seats arranged around it, but only five were in use. At least the IDIT board was mindful of its intergalactic purpose; four out of five were considered alien life forms. The table was a mess: butlers of kaf, water and sugar syrup were scattered about, data boards were stacked precariously, and smoke swirled around from two of the meeting members who were smoking.

"Yes," the Chairman demanded. "Princess Leia? What is the meaning of this?"

Leia smiled again. "Forgive me for barging in. I'm only in the city a short time and I wanted to see you."

"What business have you in the city?" the Chairman narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn't been pleasant their first conversation, but had turned the work of reparations over to clerks. Leia did honestly wish to thank them, but she had a feeling they were droids supervised by one sentient, and she'd find them on the floor below. But the Chairman was still unpleasant.

"Not your business, I assure you, Chairman. I only wanted to express my gratitude in person for the assistance you have given the survivors of Alderaan."

"Yes? And what else? What about this?" He shook the message board at her.

"Isn't it clear?" she asked with bland sweetness.

"Clear- what about? Why?"

"I don't wish to say it twice, Chairman. You will hear it when I say it. It does, however, relieve you of your duty to the Empire in keeping my involvement a secret. Please, extend my deepest gratitude to those who have provided such diligent competence on the Alderrani Reparation Fund." She nodded once, smiled around the table smartly, and left.

Han was loitering outside a jewelry shop. "How'd it go?" he asked her.

"Better than I thought. It really rankled him for some reason."

"I told you. Easy to make someone like him rankle. Just hint at a secret and they go crazy."

Leia marveled with a shake of her head. "Your con method works."

Han looked suspicious. "You're not flush with success, are you? You better not be thinkin' of trying this on the Emperor."

The jewelry store was an upscale one. Leia stared at a man's ring studded with tiny gems of blue and green. But she had no use for jewelry. She turned away and resumed walking. "I want to put in a call to the _Galaxy Satellite. _I'm sure they have an office here."

"You really are going to talk to the press."

"Oh, yes. Right on the steps of the old Senate building."

Han's gaze lifted out to the city, a look of admiration on his face. "Then what?"

"Then..." Leia took in a deep breath, "One more stop."

Han was nodding to himself, flecks of gold in his eyes. "Figured it was something like that. It'll be like Dantooine."

He didn't notice until he was four steps away that she had stopped.

"Dantooine," she said, amazed that the gold in his eyes brought up in her memory the fields of grain they had seen. When he halted and looked behind him, she demanded, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Dantooine," Han said simply. "You remember. Walking everywhere, gracing the countryside with your princess presence..."

"I bought candles on Dantooine," Leia said sternly.

"Which we could have done anywhere-"

"It was close-"

"But you had to go to Dantooine-" He lifted the arm holding the pastry sack and it swayed.

"- and there was a base there."

"Abandoned." Han took large, swift steps forward and turned so he was in front of her. "It's because you named it. In place of Alderaan. You offered it up. That's why."

Sometimes she wondered if it was hate she felt for him. His face, more than handsome, and the athletic ease of his body, distracted her. And quite possibly she had attributed his wild solutions to luck rather than smarts. But here he was, able to see through her in a way Leia didn't know herself, with an ease Dr. Renzatl would admire.

It felt terribly unfair, and she hadn't expected it, but two could play at that game. She gathered herself, and threw it out. "And you said I was hijacking your ship. You are the one attaching yourself to me!"

He flinched a little, eyes bright and very sharp. "Let's make a list, alright? I'm not following you." He held up a finger. "I'm not keepin' an eye on you." Another finger. "And I'm not _attaching_ myself to you." He thrust his hand at the air. "I knew on the ship, the moment you said you have 'errands.'"

Leia tried to bustle around him. "I'm not interested in your boasting of human nature."

"Look, it's not a bad thing," he told her back. "Don't be so huffy. You think you're exposing yourself, look at me."

She stopped, and gave him three-quarters of her face, willing to listen.

"I get it. That's all I'm saying. You have to... I don't know. Not see it. Kinda touch it," his tone softened, and when she looked he seemed far away, "with your eyes."

She turned all the way to face him.

"I'm with you, is all." He nodded, and tried to lighten the moment. "Think I understand the big Wook finally."

She was grateful for the... what was it? transference?

Connection.

He kept on talking. "You said it yourself. You were watched."

"Yes," she finally managed to say.

"Do you already know what you're going to find? 'Cause if not-"

"I am stupid enough to hope, Captain; smart enough to know better. I... it will... I don't know. I want a reminder, of our- my- responsibility, a cementing. Not only of the house of Organa, but of Leia Organa's house.

"It's my one chance. Here, right now, except to Palpatine and a select few, I am..." Leia sought the word. Dead? Ghost? "Alone. I always have been, since. It's been... something, at least. And I'm about to give that up to where I truly have nothing but a war."

His chin was at his chest, and he was looking down at her from under his lashes, and his eyes were a murky greenish brown now. "Okay. Let's go see."


	55. Touch, II

Armed men in black moved around the government district. She knew what she saw, but she couldn't assimilate it. The crowd as they walked from the financial district had thinned, and Han slipped them in one hundred and ninety floors up, opening the door manually and peering out a long while before they hit the building's sidewalk.

If Alderaan's life was destroyed but the buildings still stood: that's what she saw.

"Is this- security?" she said, and then wondered from what.

The government district was not quite empty, not quite echoing. This was Imperial City; space was at a premium. The Alderaani residents might have been moved, but something would take their place soon enough.

"These are Imps," Han said, his voice so low she almost didn't hear it. "A guard detail."

"From what?" Leia thought it again and this time uttered it aloud. It seemed so useless; obviously there wasn't much here except for the litter that blew past her feet on the sidewalk.

She stood against the rail and looked. "They're down further, too."

"I'm sure they're up as well. Good thing we didn't use a speeder."

"I'm going to my residence," Leia said firmly. "I won't be turned away." She meant the Imperial guard, but it was a message for Han as well. She didn't want him trying to talk her out of it.

"Yeah, we'll get you there. Let's re-enter. Noisily, from another entrance."

"Noisily?" Was he going to battle his way in? They turned around and headed toward another building entrance.

"We gotta meet them somehow."

"I would think to avoid them," Leia said.

"Avoid arrest. How long ago did Danneria say she moved?"

"Two weeks, I think."

"Maybe some are still emptying their apartments."

Leia nodded. Pretending to be movers seemed like a good cover.

"What's the highest floor?" Han asked, peering up.

"Two hundred twenty-six."

"A guard on the roof," Han calculated. "What's an Imp's favorite number?"

"Ten." Amusement touched her, though she barely registered it. It would come back later. Han's question proved a) that he had gone to school and b) that even on Corellia the adage _The Empire counts by ten _helped children learn their arithmetic.

Han nodded, grim. "Let's go introduce ourselves."

"Intro- What?!"

He tugged on her arm and pulled her up the corridor towards a guard, who stopped in his tracks from his pacing.

"Hey there," Han said smoothly. His grin was asking a favor but the guard noticed the blaster holstered at his thigh and raised his weapon.

Han put his hands up halfway. "Nothing like that, buddy," he said. "Sorry, wasn't thinking." Leia fought not to roll her eyes. He was telling the truth right there, she knew it.

Han was conversational. "The blaster is for down level. I don't normally come this high. I'm a little oxygen starved." He smiled, and wiped a hand shyly through his hair before slinging his arm around Leia's shoulders.

"The thing is, my girl and I," Han started. He wrapped his elbow around her head in a gesture of too-rough affection, almost a choke hold but not quite. It showed her braids but not her face, and Leia made herself relax into him, as if this was how her guy behaved.

"You shouldn't be up here," the guard said.

"- she just moved from A-D, and... well." Han kissed her forehead. "Her family don't like me, see. They think- well, never mind what they think. The thing is, she just moved. And they're not letting me see her. A move aint' a do over, is it? The Emperor is tryin' to beautify the city, they decide suddenly I ain't-"

Han turned sideways, showing his unarmed side, and rested his elbow on her shoulder, which amazed Leia that his arm interlocked with her neck so perfectly. His other hand pressed her head to his chest and she could hear his heart despite the wind almost two hundred floors high.

"We've never been this high, have we, sweetheart?" Han said into her hair. He rested his cheek on her head and spoke to the guard, who had lowered his weapon. "Alderaan ain't never done much for us here. We had the idea, we're forbidden, you know? And we stole away to get high above it all. Be together, without families and apartment levels. Go where- for just one night- none of that matters." He kissed her head again and snuggled his cheek.

Leia wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed her own face in his chest. "Please?" she said to the guard, her face still hidden.

"I can't wait to get my hands on you," Han said, his voice low and - sensual. It surprised Leia, and she almost lifted her head to check his eyes but he held her to his chest, and she remembered, they were introducing themselves. It was quite an elaboarate introduction, but it seemed to work.

"Alright, gods damn it," the guard snapped. "Kriff, get a room." He waved them on.

"Thanks, buddy." Han broke his embrace to shake the guard's hand. "This's a week's pay, but it's worth it."

The guard looked at the credit chip Han had placed in his palm.

"Got a suggestion?" Han asked. "Can we go higher?"

"Next guard is two hundredth," the man said gruffly.

"I know, the Empire counts by ten," Han beamed.

"You can't afford to meet another. Try the north side."

"Thanks, buddy," Han called out. "We won't forget this."

"I'm sure you won't," the man said dryly.

They walked arm in arm in sight of the guard. Out of earshot, Leia said in pseudo-fondness, "My con man."

Han chuckled. "Cost me my CTC pay."

* * *

Upon Bail Organa's second election to the Republic Senate at the age of twenty-five, he had purchased an apartment in the government district. He was only courted by the queen then, and couldn't afford a top level apartment. Though there were ten levels above his own, he soon bought out the other apartments on his floor, and Leia knew the entire two hundred twelfth level as her family's residence. In the years she spent the Season on Coruscant, the building had added four more stories.

As Senator, spending the Season here alone while her father was safely exiled on Alderaan, she was watched; she knew that. Her father's outspoken beliefs caused her to fall under suspicion. And her maidens had all been told, by the Viceroy himself. "It could get dangerous," he told them, and offered them the opportunity, with complete understanding, to leave the service of the House of Organa. None had gone. Probably some had wanted to.

Their loyalty was unquestioned. It was quite possible they shared the same values as the royal family they served. They were privy to conversations and information, and maybe listening to the Queen discuss politics intimately with her Senator husband convinced their thoughts. Leia never had reason to believe any of her maidens or her father's attendants had passed information to the Empire.

That was a remarkable achievement, she realized now.

Han removed the indicator light panel of the lift tube and they sailed past the two hundredth floor with no problems. "They're bored," Han said.

The door was deceptively normal.

"What are the odds they think you're comin' back?" Han wondered.

"I'd say none," Leia answered. "There's nothing here."

"Sentiment."

"I don't think that holds value in the Empire. Why is the door like that?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's unhurt."

"Door's don't have feelings, but yeah, I see what you mean. Somone let 'em in."

An icy fear crept through Leia. She put her arm on Han's. If it would just stop, this fear and violence, but each new thing brought another level. "This district has been emptied, too. Like A-D."

Han spoke in a hush. "Palp canceled the government."

"I had secretaries." Leia needed a big breath. "They lived here."

"Oh."

Her breathing was shallow. If there were bodies inside-

The difficulty of comprehending what happened to Alderaan was the magnitude of the significance: everything. There was nothing to _see. _Proof lay in what wasn't: no one answered comms, the bank holosite wouldn't load, suddenly the red andapa in the Chandrilan zoo was the only number of its kind left in the galaxy.

Luke's story came back to her, about the discovery of what the Empire had done to his aunt and uncle. The dread he must have felt, seeing the plume of smoke as he drove home. The odd solace he found in the fact the bodies burned where they had fallen. "They were already dead," he nodded to himself while he told her. How many times did he need to repeat that?

She didn't want to see what she imagined inside, and her mind raced to find whatever assurance it could.

"There's no smell," she said. Alderaan hadn't reeked of death either, but that had been a laser. A body left behind would decompose.

"It's you that's got to open the door," Han said.

Leia couldn't speak. She wasn't sure she could go in.

Han was gruff but nice at the same time. "You're just finding out about it after the fact. But you've got to, right? You'd want to."

Yes. If her secretaries were dead- yes. They were; or jailed. She would add their names to her list because that's what made them matter.

He squeezed her right hand, the one that would open the door, and then let go.

She nodded, and put her palm on the ID panel.

The door opened, in its familiar noise, at its familiar pace, and with it's familiar smell, perhaps a bit stale. _You're home, _it said.

The first thing she saw was the Thought bowl on the ground, its tokens spilled.

Han's blaster was out. He motioned for her to stop, in case anyone happened to be inside and came to investigate. Leia held her breath, and she thought Han did too.

He listened a minute. "Have any droids here?" he whispered.

"It would have been Threepio," she answered. But it wasn't the Season, and instead Threepio attended her on the _Tantive IV _and he had followed R2, with the plans, to Tatooine after she knew she would be captured. She closed her eyes and counted the bodies. On the _Tantive IV, _here, and on Tatooine. Luke's aunt and uncle, General Kenobi...

"Too bad," Han made a bad joke about the protocol droid. "Let me make sure."

Blaster leading the way, Han moved through the rooms. Leia waited for him to return, and she kneeled on the floor put the tokens in the Thought bowl. Just so they were gathered together. The irony did not escape her.

He returned. "It's clear."

Cushions were slashed, curtains torn down from rods, drawers emptied and their contents strewn. Leia's eyes were wide, comprending what happened but not why.

"Why is it still furnished?" she wondered. "Why is it still here?"

Han said, "Lights," but the room remained darkened. "Your account isn't active."

"Autodraft," Leia said. "Bank of Alderaan." She wanted to laugh. She felt lightheaded.

"You all right?"

She realized he was standing beside her. "I don't want your pity, Captain."

He slipped her hand in his and just kept it tucked. He didn't squeeze it or let it go this time. "It's not pity." He was irritated, which meant he was honest, and it took root in her heart. "I don't know what it is. If it's even for you. I think I just need to hold your hand."

Leia closed her eyes and they just stood there, her hand in his, and she focused on that.

Han gestured with the free hand holding the blaster at the ransacked rooms. "You know what this is? This is them not finding the plans. Not on your ship, and not from you on the Death Star."

Eyes still closed, voice bitter, Leia said, "This is me, my far-reaching touch of-"

"Don't. This is how good you were."

"This is not something to gloat over." Her words sounded anguished. "They burned Luke's-"

"Can't set the whole building on fire, can they. Stop it, Princess. Stop looking to pile on the blame. You know what you needed to do, and you did it."

_You all impress me, _her father had told the maidens. _I honor you. I'd like to think I had the same strength were I in your position. _

"It's been some time," Leia said haltingly. "I don't und-"

"I know what they're doing," Han said with a confident nod. "They're plundering the apartments. The bored Imps. Level by level. Takes time. Can't be too obvious. But I bet there's a load shipped out every night."

"That can't be-"

"S'what I'd do. I'd be ringleader."

"But they're Imperial soldiers-"

Han gave a harsh laugh. "That's exactly why they're doin' it." He finally gave her hand a squeeze. "Go through it," he encouraged gently. "Maybe there's things you don't want them to have."

Leia thought about it. Below her sense of guilt was a weird sensation of pride. Her maidens would never have behaved in such a manner. The Emperor commanded loyalty, and failed to receive it.

"I'll pull what I want," her eyes found Han's briefly. "They can have most. It gives me great pleasure to know the Emperor's pride is nothing but a lazy, corrupt, self-serving group of men. I hope he discovers this fact someday."

* * *

The only reason she didn't take more than she did was because of the walk back to the distant port authority. She found a large backpack in a closet. In it, she packed the Thought bowl and its tokens, a shattered wall holo of her parents, a kaf mug, the items on the 'fresher counter, clothes and shoes. Her jewelry was already missing, as were all her files from her office. She'd been looted the first search, she realized.

"Did you have Senator neighbors?" Han said.

"And Moffs, ambassadors. Generally high ranking government officials."

"These apartments will become rewards."

"Corruption starts at the top," Leia said dully.

"Exactly. I really like that outfit," Han said.

She had changed her clothes, from the mixed fashion statement of a smuggler and a soldier to an outfit she had favored as a senator and princess. The pants and tunic were deep red, fitted at the ankle, waist and wrist, while the legs were billowing. The long vested cloak was gently shimmering like spider silk, adorned with beautiful stitching the same color as her tunic. When the vest was opened, the pattern of stitched, graceful rosettes was revealed, but when relaxed the gathered fabric merely appeared deeply textured.

"Thank you." She opened the vest so he could see the embroidery. "Does it make the proper statement for when I speak to the press?"

"Better than my red socks creeping out of your boots," he laughed. "The cloak- yeah. It's beautiful."

Leia nodded. She held out a slippered foot. "And I can run in it."

He smiled appreciatively. "A very important detail. Ready?"

She nodded again. As they got to the door, she turned for one more glance. "My father bought this place when he was twenty-five."

Han said nothing; he probably didn't know how to answer.

"It's too bad I'll never see the tables and chairs again. We lived here; I'd lke them. But whatever else it was is gone. There's no Republic, no Senate. No Alderaan. The walls don't mean anything."

Han slipped his arms between the straps of the backpack. "Wonder who Palps will award this one to," Han mused. "The Organas of Alderaan. Quite the prize I imagaine, considering." He looked at her like he wanted to apologize, but couldn't resist his train of thought. "Maybe he'll reward Darth Vader with it."

Leia slipped her hand in Han's. Her breathing was easy, and she was glad she came but also ready to take her leave. She wanted to laugh again, at Han and not the hysteria of evil, so she did, and she thought she sounded like herself, a little sad and wry.


End file.
